


Box of Wishes

by no_my_name



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Cosmic connection, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartache, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Sexual Attraction, Yearning, post episode 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-02-08 15:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/no_my_name/pseuds/no_my_name
Summary: Years after the events of the season 1 finale, Alex finds an unexpected visitor on his doorstep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes my own.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex POV

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

1.   
April, 2024  
Alex

 

When the knock at the door wakes him at two a.m., somehow, he knows who it is. Somehow.

Sure, it's been years. Sure, this house is in the middle of nowhere. Sure, this is the last place on earth he'd ever expect them to meet again face to face. There's no logical reason he should be so completely certain of what he'll find when he opens the door. But even so, he is. He just ... knows.

Not bothering with the prosthesis, he pulls on sweatpants and stumbles out of the bedroom with his crutch, hitting a light switch blindly. The knock comes again, fainter this time, but still audible above the hard patter of rain against the roof and windows.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, spilling a rectangle of weak orange light into the black chill. A man stands huddled against the wall, soaked to the skin; shivering. His clothes are filthy and tattered, his body little more than skin and bones. But underneath the mud and the blood and the bruises is a face he knows as well as his own.   

Gravity goes haywire and for a moment there seems to be no up or down, no north or south. Then the world settles again, just slightly skewed, and Alex stifles a gasp. 

_Guerin._

Fucking hell. Michael Guerin, looking like a shipwreck survivor tossed up on the rocks. Something so pathetic even the sea spat it back out.     

None of the hundred clever things Alex has imagined saying at this moment come to mind. Instead, he swallows hard and clears the doorway.   

Michael manages to take three unsteady steps into the room before he collapses in a soggy heap.

* * *

Michael.  Cold.  Wet.  Bleeding.  Here.  How? 

Alex' mind sputters. Just exactly when did he lose the capacity for coherent thought? Kyle’s right -- he's spent too much time alone in the woods and his brain has started to rot. A few seconds tick by. He doesn't realize he's knelt down on the floor next to Guerin until cold water soaks his knee. 

The shallow rise and fall of the man’s chest confirms that he's breathing. Alex presses his fingers against a clammy wrist and feels a rapid pulse. There's an angry-looking gash on his shoulder that seems to be the source of the blood that's turned the gray sweatshirt rusty brown down one arm. Having nearly exhausted his limited medical know-how, Alex runs a hand across Michael's forehead to check for fever. He pushes aside the dripping baseball cap, allowing short-cropped curls to escape. Far from being feverish, his skin is gray and cold as ice. Each in-drawn breath he takes is accompanied by a faint chattering of teeth.

Finally, Alex' military-trained brain clicks on a plan and kicks his ass into action. Warm. Get him warm. Fast.  

As water fills the bathtub, he throws more wood on the fire, then bends beside the limp body, reaching out to shake him gently. When gently doesn't cut it, he shakes him harder, then slaps him lightly on the face.  

One bleary golden-brown eye opens and a scowl is aimed in his direction.

"Hey," Alex breathes, when their eyes meet.

Michael looks around in confusion, then back up at Alex. "What ...?"

"You're bleeding all over my rug, man. C'mon, get up. I can't carry your ass."

Gritting his teeth, Michael pulls himself up into a sitting position. Alex stands and gets his balance, reaching a hand down to help him, hoping they don’t both end up on the floor. It takes a couple of tries before Guerin is relatively upright, followed by a slow staggering shuffle into the bathroom. It's a struggle to get the wet clothes off, but by the time the big claw-footed tub is full, a shivering Michael is ready to be helped into it.  

A hiss of pain escapes him as the hot water meets open cuts and scrapes. Then the warmth begins to overpower the sting, and Michael gratefully sinks into it up to his neck, letting out a heavy sigh that morphs into a deep rumbling moan.

 _Oh_. _Oh,_ that _sound._ Alex tries to ignore the heat it sends directly to his groin. He blames the sweat that breaks out on his upper lip and neck on the steamy heat rising from the bathtub. But the wave of dizziness that sweeps over him when he breathes in Michael's scent can't be explained away so conveniently.

"I'll be, uh..." he mumbles as he stiffly rises and leaves Michael alone in the bathroom. Suddenly his house is too small and the air is too thin and he can't ... he needs to...  The front door's still open so he flees to the haven of his front porch and sucks in huge gasps of pine-scented air. Hands braced against the railing, he stares out into the thick dark woods, one hand unconsciously tapping in rhythm with the drip, drip, dripping of the rain.

***  
***

2\. May, 2019  
Alex

It had been raining that night, too, the sky crisscrossed by lightning. More lightning than anyone in Roswell could ever recall in a rare desert downpour. Alex didn’t remember it clearly. His memories surrounding that night and the weeks after are murky and full of holes – unnaturally so. He vaguely recalls waiting for Michael in the Airstream, talking with him briefly. He was bloody that night too, though he’d claimed it wasn’t his own. Alex can picture the frantic expression, the panic in his eyes. He remembers Michael touching his arm, asking him to come back, before he fled into the storm. At least Isobel left him that memory to cling to.    

Had she gotten into his head that night? The next day? He had no way of knowing. Only that one night he’d been talking to Michael and the next thing he knew, it was a month later and the Evans twins, Noah and Michael were all gone, along with every trace of alien technology that had been in Guerin’s bunker.

Similarly affected, Kyle had run brain scans and blood tests on them both, with no results. While Liz, the recently-returned Rosa, and the rest of the town seemed convinced that the departures weren’t mysterious, the two of them knew better. They just couldn’t remember enough details surrounding the night of the storm to prove it. Neither could Maria, whose psychic abilities made her sure her friends didn’t just suddenly decide to move away and cut off contact.

Weeks turned into months, months into a year, then another, and none of Alex’s efforts to find Michael and his siblings yielded a clue. He’d suffered losses before. His mom had left. Members of his squad had died right in front of him. Part of his own body had been blasted away. But somehow, losing Michael Guerin was the most painful loss of all.

 

(tbc) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The road ahead is winding and angsty...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you  
\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

3\. April, 2024  
Alex

Alex concentrates on every breath. In. Out. In. Out. As soon as he gets it under control his pulse stops racing and his head begins to clear. He becomes aware of a nasty headache and a bare foot that’s freezing. What the hell is he doing standing out here on the porch when there's a warm dry house a few steps away? As he turns to go back in, he catches a glimpse of his SUV parked near the garage. It registers that there's not another vehicle in sight. How the hell did Michael get here? Where has he been all this time? And what on earth is he going to do with him now?

Alex passes the dark, vaguely Guerin-shaped puddle on his rug on the way to his bedroom. Reaching for his phone, he hits the power button, startling when it comes to life instantly; ringing shrilly, insistently. The name on the caller I.D. is no surprise.

"Hi Maria."

"Alex! I've been texting and calling all day. Where have you been?” Her tone is borderline frantic.

“I told you, I’m going offline for a while. My doctor said I needed--”

“Max’s picture is all over the news!” she shouts over him. “The government’s looking for him. They’re calling him a person of interest in a bombing in Washington.”

With a glance toward the bathroom, Alex’s brain snaps into overdrive, relegating Maria’s voice to background noise until he can no longer ignore her yelling his name.

“Alex! Alex, for god’s sake, are you listening to me? Did you know? Did you have any idea he was in D.C.? Do you think Michael and Isobel are with him?”

“Maria, stop! Calm down.” Alex curses under his breath. His cell phone is not secure, goddammit. With his past ties to Guerin and the others, it’s a good bet his calls are still being monitored, even five years after his discharge. Attempting to do damage control, he tries to talk Maria off the ledge. “No. God, no, Maria. You know that none of us has heard from them since they left Roswell.”

Maria’s voice is choked with tears. “I know, I know. But you looked for them – you and Kyle—”

“We never found a trace. Nothing, Maria. They were just…gone. They sure as hell didn’t want to be found, so I tried to put it behind me and move on. You’re the one who convinced me it would be better that way.”

“I know, I know,” Maria repeats quietly, holding back sobs.

“And you were right. Whatever there was between me and Guerin is ancient history, no matter if he’s dead or alive,” Alex sighs, hoping he has her convinced along with whoever else might be listening. He hears her take in a deep breath to steady herself.

“Look, I’m sorry to call in the middle of a freak out, but seeing the news was such a shock. I mean, I tried calling Liz, but she and her husband are on a cruise, so--” Her voice fades away for a second and he hears the familiar ambience of the Wild Pony, before she’s back again. “Oh, hey, Kyle just walked in. He wants to talk to you.”

“No, wait a minute--”

“Manes, that you? Did you hear?” Valenti sounds only slightly less frazzled than Maria.

“Yeah, Kyle. Listen, I got the news, but I just can’t talk right now, OK? It’s the middle of the night and my head is killing me. I’ll have to call you back. Later.”

“I understand,” Kyle says, in a way that makes Alex believe they’re on the same wavelength. “Take care, Alex. Call soon.”

***

Putting his prosthetic on feels a little like strapping on body armor before battle. He has a feeling he’s going to need both legs under him and all his wits about him to get through the rest of this night.

One glance through the open bathroom door reassures him that he hadn't been hallucinating earlier. The man soaking in his bathtub really is Michael Guerin. When Alex clears his throat, Michael turns his head toward him and offers a weak nod in greeting.

"Um ..." Alex begins, not having the slightest clue which of the million questions buzzing around in his head to ask first. "Uh, you OK? You hit the floor like a ton of bricks out there. And the blood…"

Michael checks the cut on his shoulder that continues to ooze. "Looks worse than it is," he answers.

His voice is as sandpaper-rough as Alex remembers. It sounds like it hasn't been used in a while. It sounds like pure sex, exactly the way Alex hears it in his dreams – the ones he wakes up from hard, aching and reaching for his cock against his will.

Leaning against the doorframe for support, he’s almost relieved when the righteous anger he’s been repressing bubbles up to the surface.

"So… not dead, then,” he says. “Not rocketing off to your home planet. Not chained up in a secret prison. Not being tortured and dissected. Well, that’s a relief.” Despite himself, the sarcasm in his voice barely masks the pain and rage. He wants to throttle the man in front of him to within an inch of his life. He wants to kiss him until they both pass out. He wants to make him pay for every sleepless, heartbroken night he’s endured in the last five years. He wants. He wants…

“Alex—"

He wants answers. “Tell me what the fuck is going on, Guerin." he growls.

The man shifts slightly in the tub and hisses in pain. “You got any acetone around here? Bandages?" he asks, avoiding Alex' eyes.

“Don’t change the subject."

“I’ll be in better shape to talk after a hit. Check the pocket of my hoodie.”

Retrieving one of the bottles from the soggy shirt, Alex hands it over and watches Michael suck it down in huge gulps. Alex lets his eyes drink in the sight before him just as greedily. With the dirt and blood washed away and color returning to his skin, he doesn’t look too bad. Well, not too bad for Michael Guerin. Fucking gorgeous by mere mortal standards.

At 33 he can no longer be mistaken for a kid. There are new lines at the corners of his eyes, and dark circles beneath them. The golden skin has paled, but still looks like it would be soft as silk to the touch. When Alex’s wandering gaze returns to Michael’s face their eyes lock and he feels the shockwave rock his entire body. The ghost of the well-worn smirk appears. Alex knows he’s been caught looking. He feels his face flush like a goddamned teenager and starts backing out of the room. “First aid kit’s in the kitchen,” he mumbles as he leaves.

It’s merely a strategic retreat, he tells himself. That’s all it is.

On the way to the kitchen he nearly stumbles over the dog, who has left her cozy bed and wandered out to check on her master. Alex swears out loud and keeps moving, ignoring the old beagle’s hopeful look when the refrigerator door is opened. He grabs a beer and twists off the cap, downing half of it in one long draw.

There's a bottle of aspirin next to the first aid kit in the cabinet over the sink, but he thinks he remembers reading somewhere that aspirin makes bleeding worse, so bad idea, probably, in Michael's case. Not to mention how it might not mix with his acetone-loving digestive system. Alex goes ahead and swallows a few tablets himself, then chases them down with the rest of the beer. No reason for both of them to suffer.

With the kit in hand, he heads back to the bathroom to patch up his alien ex who has suddenly and miraculously re-entered his life as mysteriously as he left it. Alex wishes there was something in the kit to repair his battered heart. He wishes........no. No. Fuck that. No wishes. Wishing is a worthless waste of time. Wishing is for little kids and damned fools. Alex Manes is neither of those. Alex Manes has wised up. He swore off wishing years ago.

***  
***

4\. Memories: 2008 - 2018  
Alex

Be careful what you wish for. Alex knows of no better words to live by. He’d learned that lesson the hard way in high school. The wish he'd made back then had been careless to the extreme. After weeks of fighting his attraction, he'd finally given in and admitted to himself exactly what he wanted: Michael Guerin. With every fiber of his being he wished for them to be together and, lo and behold, the wish was granted. Only later did he realize he should have been more specific.

Be careful what you wish for.

Yeah, he got Michael, all right. He had him, warm and wanting and willing beneath him in the dim light of his father’s tool shed. For those magical stolen moments, he’d basked in affection and pleasure, so sweetly offered, and he’d given it all right back in return. Not only had Alex fallen instantly, impossibly in love; he saw that emotion reflected back in soul-deep eyes. Every slow thrust, each shuddering breath, every touch they shared, every kiss, every sigh – they were one; locked in an intimate connection he still can’t fully understand. He had Michael in his arms for one night. He should have wished for more. He should have wished for forever.

He’d replayed the loving whispers he remembered from that night over and over again to get himself through a war he wasn’t certain he wanted to return from. But return he did, only to find Guerin was still in Roswell. Only to realize they were still as trapped in their mutual gravitational pull as ever. They’d crashed together, then split apart. Lashed out, then comforted one another. And just when Alex was ready to declare his unending devotion, Michael slipped through his fingers like so many grains of desert sand.

What good had wishing ever done him before? Why should he believe that anything could change after all these years?

(tbc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Michael's POV and the answers Alex has been looking for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally nothing about finally seeing Alex again has gone as planned. For years, he’d dreamed of sweeping the man off his feet. Instead, he’d ended up collapsing on his doorstep. But none of that matters now. He’s here at last. Here with Alex. It’s has to be enough, even if he can’t help wanting more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All errors are my own.  
> These chapters pick up the story from Michael's point of view.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

 

5\. April, 2024  
Michael

Leaning against the bathroom counter, towel wrapped around his waist, Michael examines his bruised torso in the mirror and mentally congratulates himself on making it this far. His plan to get to Alex before the news about Max broke hadn’t taken into account a rockslide blocking the only road up this godforsaken mountain. Neither had it included tumbling down a sheer rockface in a driving rainstorm. Both his body and his powers had taken a hell of a beating to escape falling to his death.

Literally nothing about finally seeing Alex again has gone as planned. For years, he’d dreamed of sweeping the man off his feet. Instead, he’d ended up collapsing on his doorstep. But none of that matters now. He’s here at last. Here with Alex. It’s has to be enough, even if he can’t help wanting more.

In the mirror’s reflection his host appears behind him, holding out a first aid kit and a bundle of clothes. Gratefully he accepts it all, making quick work of closing the largest cut with butterfly bandages as Alex looks on.

“So, how’d that happen?” Alex asks, nodding his head to indicate the injuries.

“Massive landslide took out the road.”

“Why didn’t you just use your superpowers?”

Michael turns to face him, oozing sarcasm. “As much as I would have loved to mentally blast a hole through it, or levitate the Jeep over it, there were road crews on site. Too many witnesses. I had to hike up.”

“Must’ve been some hike.”

Hmm, is he mistaken, or was there the slightest trace of their old banter behind that remark? For the second time tonight, Michael catches Alex’s gaze sweeping across his body, eyes lingering on his bare chest and shoulders. Yeah, he can work with this. Favoring Alex with a raised eyebrow and his dirtiest smirk, he steps right into his personal space with all kinds of bad intentions.

“You want to do a more hands-on inspection, Private?” he purrs, as he drops the towel to the floor.

And yes, he’d been trying to provoke a reaction…but he hadn’t bargained on _this._ In a heartbeat he’s shoved back into the wall hard, pinned in place by Alex’s weight and a vice-like grip on his biceps. This is a side of the man he’s never seen before. This is the tough-as-nails soldier who’d cheated death on the other side of the world.

“Cut the shit, Guerin!” he rages, shaking him once for good measure. “I am _not_ fucking around with you and your games, you hear me? Get dressed and get ready for a long-ass night. You’ve got a lot of talking to do.”

***

As interrogations go, he’s been through worse. He’s in a not-uncomfortable chair across the table from a man he will never, ever, get tired of looking at -- even at times like this when he’s wearing his ice-cold Manes-man military persona like a weapon.  

Michael may have miscalculated earlier, but now he’s on his best behavior. No more flirting. No more innuendo. Just straight answers to straight questions.  

“Is Isobel alive too?” Alex begins.

“Yes. I was with her and Max just a couple days ago. The story about the bombing and the manhunt – it’s all fake. They’re both fine.”

“Noah?”

“Dead. Before we even left Roswell.”

“Explain to me in detail what happened that night,” Alex demands. “Why did you leave? How--?

Michael interrupts, “It’s complicated.” And man, isn’t that the understatement of the century.

Alex’s hands clench into fists. “Neither one of us is going anywhere until you tell me everything, Guerin, so you may as well start talking.”

“OK. Here goes… There are other aliens on Earth that we didn’t know about, Alex. Lots of them. And they didn’t know about us either, until Caulfield.”

Over the course of the next hour, Michael recounts the story he’d first heard back in 2019.

_There had, in fact, been three ships that reached Earth that night in 1947. But shortly after entering orbit, one mysteriously lost communication, then power. Its cloaking shields failed as it careened toward the surface, crashing thousands of miles off course. It was believed that nothing could have survived the subsequent inferno._

_The crews of the other ships had no time to mourn. They had a mission to carry out. They landed, undetected, in the northernmost reaches of the Canadian wilderness and settled in to wait for the Alighting – the day their fellow Antarians would come to take them home. Using advanced alien technology, they built a safety net of cloaked underground bases, safehouses and listening posts. Then slowly, methodically, they began integrating into human society._

_Careful to hide their alien powers from others, they infiltrated research and development firms, think tanks and universities, where they “discovered” breakthroughs in all areas of scientific exploration. They prospered. Their numbers grew. They lived their lives united by the common dream of one day returning to their home planet. But the same unwavering focus on the future that made them so successful, also left them vulnerable. The past caught up with them brutally the day Caulfield exploded. Nothing could have prepared them for the combined death cries of the doomed prisoners that rippled across the planet in a psychic shock wave that brought them to their knees._

Michael’s narration stops abruptly. He has to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back tears. Will there ever come a day when the memory of finding – _and losing_ – his mother won’t gut him? He closes his eyes, needing a minute to pull himself together.

He hears noises from the kitchen followed by the solid thump of a bottle and glasses next to him. Soon the enticing scent of whisky revives him enough to look up and reach for the drink.

“Here,” Alex says before downing his own in one swallow.

Michael follows suit, then turns the empty glass in his left hand, watching it catch reflections of the firelight. If Alex has noticed his healed hand, he hasn’t mentioned it.

“Go on.”

“Until that moment, our fellow aliens had no idea anyone made it through the Roswell crash alive. Within hours they learned about the prisoners, Project Shepherd, and us, and sent their top operatives to get us the hell out of there.”

“The night of the storm?”

“God, what a fucking insane night,” Michael groans. He swipes his thumb across his upper lip and shakes his head. “So much shit went down that night. I have no idea how to explain it all to you. But by the next morning we were in a safe house on the other side of the country, being welcomed like long-lost family.”

Alex slams his fist against on the table, rattling the glasses. “But _how_? How were you able to leave without us knowing? Why the hell can’t I remember?”

“Actually, you and Valenti seem to remember a lot more than most. Our scientists aren’t entirely sure why the mass hypnosis wasn’t as effective on you two. The rest of Roswell swallowed the planted memories hook, line and sinker. Except Liz, of course.”

Here Michael pauses, recalling how he and Isobel tried and failed to change Max’s mind. But their brother was determined that setting her free was the best thing for everyone.

“Even with special, one-on-one hypnosis, Liz fought against letting him go. In the end, though, Max got his way.”

Alex’s hands are restlessly tapping against his knees. He’s tightly strung, clearly teetering on the edge of his composure. Knowing what’s coming next, Michael is overcome with dread.

“And what about _you_ , Guerin? What did _you_ want, huh? Did you want me to forget you? Did you want me to think you left me without a word? To wonder if you were dead … or worse? So much for Michael Guerin never looking away!”

Michael wishes he could un-see the look of total devastation on Alex’s face right now. It’s killing him to know he’s responsible for putting it there. Causing him this kind of pain is the last thing he wanted. Not for the first time, he wonders if he was fooling himself thinking there could be another chance for them.

“Alex—"

“No. Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Continue.”

“I wanted to contact you. So bad. There was no choice. We had to lay low until we could put a plan in action. Until we were safe. I thought about you every day. Every single minute. I was always planning to come back to you. _Always_. I came as soon as I could.”

“Enough!” Alex thunders. “I don’t want to hear any more of this bullshit. Get to the part about Max.”

“OK. All right,” Michael says, trying to restore some measure of calm in the room. “The bombing story is just an elaborate hoax. It’s part of the plan to flush out the last of our enemies. Your brother Flint has already taken the bait. The rest of his team will be rounded up soon.”

“So, what happens then?”

“In a day or two there will be another staged explosion. It will look real in every detail, down to the charred remains inside. The medical examiner will ID three human victims: Max Evans, Isobel Evans Bracken and Michael Guerin. We’ll be given new names, new identities and a chance to start new lives.”   

Alex’s agitation has him on his feet and pacing. “Seriously? What makes you think you can pull off faking your own deaths that easily? You going to outsmart the FBI? Homeland Security? The NSA?”

Michael centers himself with a deep breath. Of all the secrets he’s come here to tell tonight, this next revelation just might be more than Alex can handle. Sometimes he finds it hard to believe himself.

“We don’t have to fool anyone, Alex. Ever since the 2020 elections, we’ve controlled every key position in the government.”

“What do you mean? You wha--?”

Alex visibly pales, trembling as comprehension dawns. He reaches out a hand to steady himself against the table.

“What you are telling me is that the Commander in Chief… the most powerful person in the whole world is—"

“An alien? Yes, Alex. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”   

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geesh, that section was WAY longer than I thought it'd be.  
> Up Next: Alex got the answers he asked for. Were they the ones he wanted? Would anything Michael could possibly tell him convince him to give them another try?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a whole new world. How will Alex deal with what he's learned?

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

 

6\. April, 2024  
Alex

Alex is halfway down the wooded trail to the overlook before the echo of the slamming door completely fades. The sun hasn’t quite broken the horizon, but its glow is enough to light his way. This isn’t running away. It’s not. He just needs to be moving right now. Needs the solid feel of dirt beneath him to keep him connected to reality.   

Before long the trail dead-ends at the edge of a rocky outcrop. On clear days the view from this elevation is spectacular, extending east over the foothills and desert nearly all the way to Roswell. It’s a spot he comes to a lot – on good days and bad -- to meditate and think and remember.

Today, everything he believed about his world; everything he _knew without a doubt to be true,_ is in question. Everything around him seems unfamiliar. His fingers tingle. His legs ache. White spots dance in his vision. Finally, he has no choice but to let it all go for a while – to give in to what his body is demanding. He lowers himself to the cool, damp earth and lets the static in his mind fade to black.

***

Stale breath and sloppy dog kisses bring him around some time later. Raising one arm to push Lucy away, he does a quick sit-rep. He’s alive, mostly-whole and currently flat on his back blinking up at five-feet eleven-inches of alien cowboy silhouetted against the morning sky.

The man above him stretches out a hand to help him up. Alex ignores it and gets himself upright with as much grace as he can muster, with Lucy wagging her tail and circling his feet in greeting, her tags jingling loudly in the quiet of the clearing.

“Nice dog. She likes me,” Michael says, patting her head.

“Yeah, well, neither one of us has ever been a great judge of character,” Alex replies, with a frown at the little traitor. She just stands there, Beagle-smiling at him and wagging her tail.

Michael raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Cold, Manes.”

Alex refuses to look at him, occupying himself with brushing dirt off his clothes.  

Michael’s voice is low and deliberate, his words seeming rehearsed. “Look, I know that was a lot crap to lay on you last night. Way too much information to process all at once. I’ve had years, and it still blows my mind sometimes. I get that you’re pissed at me. I do. And I know that however hard I try to make it up to you, even if it takes the rest of my life, you may never be able to forgive me.” 

He goes quiet then, scuffing a boot against some loose pebbles. “I, um… I just came out here to make sure you were all right.”

As Michael’s footsteps recede up the path, Alex turns in time to see his back disappear around a bend in the trail.

‘All right’? Of course he’s not all right. Michael is back and that fact alone is enough to turn Alex’s life upside down. He can’t even begin to unpack the information about aliens controlling the government – and peacefully too; legitimately elected into office right under the noses of his paranoid father’s underground alien-fighting operation. If the horrors of Project Shepherd weren’t so tragic, the whole thing would almost be funny.

He can’t think about the big picture right now. He’d only end up driving himself as crazy as Jesse Manes. First things first. First, he needs to deal with Guerin. 

 

***  
***

7\. April, 2024  
Michael

From where Michael’s standing in the bathroom, he can hear Alex and the dog return. They let in a chilly draft that makes him shiver. He finishes wringing water and blood out of the hoodie he’d been wearing when he got here, then drapes it across the shower rod to dry, alongside his jeans.

Various sounds of domesticity reach him from the other room. The refrigerator door opens and closes. The dog slurps from her water bowl. He waits, half expecting to hear the SUV start up outside. Part of him is sure Alex will drive away without another word, so it’s a relief when he appears in the bathroom doorway.  

Casually drying his hands, Michael examines Alex from the corner of his eye. He seems about as well as can be expected after their conversation last night. The carefully blank expression doesn’t fool him. Michael has always been able to read his body language and what’s revealed there is anger, confusion and a ton of pain.  

“Why?” Alex finally demands, his voice rough as gravel.

“Uh, can you be more specific?”

“Why did you come here? Why now?”

Michael wants so badly to reach out and touch him, but he controls the impulse.

“Answer the question, damn it. WHY? Why put me through this?”

What can he say to that? Michael takes a deep breath to speak but can’t find the words. All he can do is what he’s always done with Alex in the past. He drops the devil-may-care disguise he’s worn like a shield from the time he was a scared, unwanted foster kid and lays himself bare, revealing everything he is feeling, everything he’s always felt. Letting it all show in his face.

By the way Alex’s eyes widen and his breath catches, Michael knows Alex sees it all. But he’s not ready to accept it.

“Twenty-four hours ago, I was fine. I was getting on with my life. Yesterday you were _dead_ to me!”

“Was I? Is that the truth? Or is it a lie you’ve been telling yourself so long that you almost believe it?

Alex blinks rapidly and looks away. “You said at Caulfield that this connection between us had gotten us nowhere. Then you left without so much as a text goodbye. And now you think you can come back and start it all up again?”

“It never stopped for me. Not ever, Alex.”

Visibly agitated, Alex’s body tenses, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “God damn you, Guerin.”

He’s moving now, steadily erasing the space between them, filling the small room with his heat and scent. Michael is dizzy with it.

“Damn this _thing!_ It’s like a fire in my gut, burning me up from the inside. I keep thinking it has to burn itself out eventually. But it doesn’t. It won’t. It burns and burns… and… and… _fuck if I’m gonna burn alone_.”

Alex’s mouth crashes into his in a desperate, bruising kiss. Michael’s arms wrap around him automatically, crushing their bodies together and swaying them back and forth. The kiss is endless, relentless. Alex’s hands hold his head in place, denying him breath. But who needs oxygen when he _finally_ has Alex in his arms again.

They come up for air just long enough for Alex to tug the t-shirt over his head, hungry eyes mapping the newly exposed skin. Then they’re kissing again and Alex’s hands are everywhere – pinching, scratching, marking him. Before Michael can register what’s happening, he’s roughly spun around and bent over the bathroom counter, impatient hands pushing down his borrowed sweatpants.

He can’t help but moan when the unexpected heat of a soft wet tongue against the nape of his neck is followed by the delicious rasp of stubble. Blood rushes to his cock and he gasps when Alex’s knee pushes between his thighs, forcing his legs apart. He answers by rocking backwards, grinding his bare ass against a denim covered erection, pulling from Alex one of the filthiest sounds he’s ever heard.

Two fingers probe his lips and Michael opens to suck them in hungrily, coating them with saliva. Then the wet fingers are at his entrance, teasing around the rim, making Michael squirm, his body wanting to pull away and push back at the same time. Alex delivers a stinging slap to his naked flesh and whispers, “Hold still.”

Michael can barely hear Alex’s belt and zipper over the rushing in his ears. He braces against the counter on his elbows, lust-drunk and mouth gone suddenly dry. Then a strong hand tangles in his hair and hauls him upright so they’re face to face in the mirror. 

“Look at me, Guerin,” Alex demands, and Michael can only obey, golden eyes locking in place with deep brown. “ _Fuuuck._ See what you do to me? See what you make me want to do to you?”

“Alex…”

“Christ, you’d let me do anything to you right now, wouldn’t you?”

Michael arches like a cat and whines, trying to work himself backward onto wet fingers, and finally Alex pushes them past the entrance and strokes over and over again, deep inside. Panting and cursing under his breath, Michael grabs the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. He’s not too proud to beg for what he needs.

“ _More… Please--”_

“ _Michael,”_ Alex breathes, and gives it to him, pulling out his fingers and shoving his cock home in one brutal thrust that has Michael seeing stars. Alex drives into him, hard and deep, setting a blistering pace they both know can’t possibly last.

Before he can stop it, Michael loses himself to an earth-shattering orgasm. Bright colors explode in his brain as his body writhes helplessly on Alex’s thrusting cock. Alex’s body spasms and he cries out, burying himself to the hilt and holding Michael tightly as he pulses his release inside him.

For a moment, Michael feels time stand still. If he were the type that believed in wishes, he’d make one now. He’d wish that the universe would let them stay like this forever; joined together, safe and quiet, far away from the rest of the world.    

Too soon, he feels Alex pull out. He watches in the mirror as the man behind him quickly adjusts his clothes, deliberately avoiding eye contact. When Alex is halfway out the door, he hesitates. He opens his mouth to say something, then clamps his jaw shut tightly. Then, tossing an unreadable glance back over his shoulder, he leaves Michael alone once more.  

***

(to be continued) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public Service Announcement:  
> Please note that in my headcanon Alex knows that Michael is immune from human diseases and that unprotected alien sex is safe. I am NOT condoning wreckless sex without birth control and condoms.  
> Play safe, boys and girls. And boys and boys. And girls and girls. 
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and comments. Malex has taken over my life, locking me to the keyboard for more than a week now, and greedily devouring all the wonderful fic that's being created around these alluring characters.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many reasons Alex is still in his bedroom with the door closed nearly half an hour after having sex with Guerin. Real, legitimate reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

April, 2024

Alex

 

There are many reasons Alex is still in his bedroom with the door closed nearly half an hour after having sex with Guerin. Real, legitimate reasons.

He’d needed time to pack up his laptop, throw his clothes in his duffle, make his bed and call the ranger station to see if the road had reopened. So what if that stuff only took five minutes? He’d needed the other 20 to freak out about the fact that he’d just bent Guerin over the bathroom sink and fucked him into next week. And it was _good._ His body’s tingling even now. The taste of Michael is still on his lips; his scent lingers on his skin.  

“Get your shit together, Manes,” he grumbles to himself. Enough stalling. Grabbing his bags, he pushes the door open and goes out to face the music.    

Hazel eyes follow Alex’s every move around the living room as he piles the bags by the front door and checks his pockets for his keys. Michael has made himself at home. He’s sprawled lazily across the sofa, sipping a beer, with Lucy asleep at his feet and a plate piled with chicken bones on the end table beside him.

“That was supposed to be _my_ lunch, Guerin,” Alex complains.

“What can I say? I was hungry after our . . . workout.”

Michael tilts his beer at him and winks.

Flustered, Alex feels his face go hot. “That was, um…” he stammers.  

“Relax, Alex. We’re both grown-ups. I know better than to think that one round of angry sex means all is forgiven.” A pink tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he drawls, “No matter how fucking hot it was.”

“God, you’re infuriating.”

“Yeah, sometimes I can’t help myself,” Michael snarks, trying to catch his eye. When Alex ignores him and starts restlessly pacing, Michael straightens up, puts his feet on the floor and leans forward, hands clasped between his knees. “Seriously, Alex. Will you sit down and talk to me? Please?”

He really should. But his body seems to have other ideas. He seems to be stuck in a loop, moving back and forth, back and forth. He probably looks like a duck in a shooting gallery, but the repetitive motion is soothing to his extremely frayed nerves.  

“Hey, man. You look exhausted. Just sit for a minute. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

The shrill ring tone of Alex’s phone startles them both. He swears and fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Kyle’s name on the ID. “It’s Valenti. He and Maria heard about Max last night.”

He lets the call go to voice mail, but he knows he’s running out of time. If he doesn’t call them back soon, they’re bound to show up on his doorstep. Kyle, especially, has turned into a full-fledged mother hen when it comes to Alex’s well-being. “I need to call them back. Tell them what’s going on.”

“Don’t you think it would be easier on them if we told them in person?”

_“We?”_

“Alex, I _want_ to tell them. I wanted to tell all of you _before_ the whole fake explosion story hit the news, but you were half-way up this goddamned mountain instead of in Roswell where you should have been. Between the rockslide, rainstorm and nearly doing a cliff dive, I was late. And, before you say it, I know it’s not the first time I’ve screwed up in this relationship.”

“Relationship?” Alex squeaks. Un-fucking-believable. Guerin has a lot of nerve calling whatever it is that’s still between them a ‘relationship.’ He’s winding himself up to deliver a stinging rebuttal when the phone vibrates with a text from Kyle.

_‘WTF Manes? Call me or I call 911.’_

Shit, Kyle getting the sheriff involved is the last thing that needs to happen right now, even if she is his mother.

_‘I’m OK. Coming back now. Meet at cabin 05:00?’_

_‘We’ll be there. Drive safe.’_

Pocketing the phone, he rubs his tired eyes and turns his attention back to the alien on his sofa. Michael is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and staring up at him with puppy-dog eyes that rival Lucy’s. Alex has to admit, seeing him look all hopeful is actually kind of sweet. He’d almost forgotten the way the man could go from brash and cocky to shy and uncertain in the space of a heartbeat.

“All right, let’s go. Just try not to get on my nerves, OK?”

Five minutes later, with a smiling Guerin and a tail-wagging Lucy loaded into the SUV, Alex heads down the steep mountain road toward Roswell.

“Hey, Alex? I’m still starving. Can we stop and get a pizza on the way?” Michael asks hopefully.

Alex sighs. It’s going to be a long drive.

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but RL is currently kicking my ass. Thanks again to those who have offered encouragement and kudos.  
> Malex is my drug.


	6. Interlude One - On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude in the story, as Michael and Alex hit the road to Roswell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

April, 2024  
Alex

By the time they reach the spot where Michael had abandoned his rental the day before, they’ve agreed on driving to Roswell together in Alex’s SUV. He’s damned if he’s going to let Guerin out of his sight again until after they’ve talked to Kyle and Maria.

Michael says yes, on the condition that he’s allowed to retrieve his bags and change into his own clothes. So here Alex is, parked behind the Jeep, watching through the windshield as Guerin decides to strip right there on the side of the road. There’s never much traffic along this stretch. And it’s not like either one of them has ever been shy about being naked in front of the other. But for some reason, seeing Michael bare-assed out in the open air makes him feel like a voyeur. He should probably stop looking. He really should.

He doesn’t.  

Michael. Is. Beautiful. Alex can’t help but watch his abs ripple as he pulls on faded button-fly jeans that rest perilously low on his slim hips.  

  
C _ommando, Guerin? Seriously?_ Alex shakes his head, amused. It’s a pretty transparent attempt to turn him on, and he’ll admit that it’s effective. The man has always known exactly how to push his buttons. He subtly adjusts himself in his jeans and turns to look at the less stimulating scenery outside the driver’s side window instead.

When he looks back again, Michael’s dressed in a white t-shirt, blue button down and a baseball cap worn backwards. He looks about 17, which is so not fair. Then he puts on a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses with tortoise shell frames, and, _whoa_. The whole Abercrombie & Fitch vibe kind of suits him. Still, Alex will always prefer him in his dusty, rumpled cowboy clothes.

Michael climbs into the car, wearing a self-satisfied grin – clearly dying to get Alex to react to his little strip tease act. Rolling his eyes in Guerin’s direction, he starts up the SUV and pulls back onto the road. 

Sure, Alex may be easy, but he’s not _that_ easy.    

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason the image of a naked Guerin pulling on jeans on the side of the road stuck in my head and I had to write it before I could concentrate on furthering the plot.  
> Plus, I just couldn't resist bleeding a little of Vlamis' backward-baseball-cap look into this story. Sorry, not sorry!


	7. Interlude Two - More from the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More moments from Alex and Michael's road trip back to Roswell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Roadtrip Interlude Two:  
Michael

Alex was right when he’d claimed this place served some of the best Mexican food in the state. The roadside stand didn’t look like much, just a weathered adobe hut with some picnic tables out front, but the mouthwatering enchiladas drenched in chili sauce were as good as he’d ever tasted. Michael had practically inhaled his meal, only to look up and see Alex frowning down at his untouched plate, absently playing with his fork.  

“Something’s on your mind. Why don’t you just spit it out?”

The utensil clatters to Alex’s plate as he gives up all pretense of eating. “All right, then. This alien government takeover you told me about. What’s the end game?”

Wiping his mouth with a paper napkin, Michael pushes his plate to the side and leans forward with his elbows on the table. He’d been wondering how long it would take for Alex to go there. “It’s nothing sinister. It’s exactly the opposite, in fact.”

The single raised eyebrow on Alex’s face speaks volumes.  

“No, seriously. After decades went by with no word from Antar, the refugee leaders launched a probe to find out what was happening on our home planet. A few years ago they got their answer. There was no longer a home to go back to – not one that was habitable, anyway,” he explains. That terrible news had come as quite a blow when he’d heard it. Sometimes his life seemed like one long hit parade of losses stacked on top of each other.    

Alex looks away; the familiar furrow creasing his brow as he says, “I’m sorry, Guerin. I know how much you wanted to go there.”

Sighing, Michael continues, “What I wanted most was answers. And after I got them; after I heard the stories of why we had to flee for our lives, you could say that idea lost its appeal.”  

“What about the others?” Alex asks.

“They were devastated. But they moved on. Here’s what it really comes down to, Alex. My people are -- first and foremost -- _survivors._ They’re brilliant and powerful and willing to work together to protect themselves and their families. Once it was clear that Earth was the only home they’d ever have, they turned their attention to making it the kind of place they wanted to live and raise their children. Since there are only thousands of us in a world of billions, harnessing the strength of the most powerful nation on the planet seemed like a good place to start.”

“Whether humans want them in charge or not?”

“Would you prefer to go back to the greedy, corrupt robber barons who were in charge before? How was that working out for you?” Michael challenges. He makes his case, counting the charges on his fingers as he goes, “Ignoring devastating climate change, rejecting science, flouting laws, trading in lies, supporting policies that deny basic needs to people just because they’re poor, being OK with throwing innocent children in cages? Don’t even get me started on the evils of violence and war. No offense, but humans have a fucking terrible record of taking care of their planet and each other.”

“And your species did such a great job on Antar?”

“Touché,” Michael admits. “But think about it. Who knows more about what’s at stake than they do? This isn’t some misguided attempt to create a new utopia. They’re trying to avoid losing another home. I promise you, what they… what _we_ are doing is not a threat. It’s a lifeline.”

Michael watches the look of intense concentration take over Alex’s features. He can practically hear the wheels turning inside that methodical brain, weighing and interpreting this latest information. He hates to interrupt, but there are more pressing matters at hand.  

“Hey. You gonna eat that?” he asks, gesturing to Alex’s platter of tacos. No sense letting it go to waste.

Alex just shakes his head and signals to their waitress. “Get it to go. We should get back on the road if we want to get to the cabin on time.”

***

Road Trip Interlude Three:  
Alex

Most of the remaining miles pass in silence. Radio reception out here is spotty at best and Alex can’t be bothered to search his phone for a playlist well-suited to a road trip with one’s alien ex. Their recent conversation plays again in his head. What Guerin told him puts things in a different light. The threat level in his mind drops from fire engine red to a less dangerous yellowish-orange, and his blood pressure eases as well. Now that he thinks about it, the country does seem to be doing a lot better in recent years. Maybe the reasons behind the change aren’t as important as the fact that things are moving in the right direction.

Lucy’s cold nose poking through from the back seat and brushing against his arm pulls him from his thoughts. When he doesn’t pet her immediately, she turns to Michael in search of attention and he obliges by scratching her favorite spot behind her ears.

“What’s this girl’s story?” Michael asks.

“She’s a rescue. Mimi showed up at the cabin one day with this filthy, scrawny animal in her arms,” Alex recalls. It had only been a few months after Michael and the Evans’ had disappeared. He remembers feeling almost as lost and pathetic as the dog back then.

“She was skin and bones and covered with mange. Nobody wanted her. The shelter was going to put her down, but Mimi heard about her and volunteered me to take her. I didn’t have the energy to argue. It was touch and go at first, but gradually she made a full recovery, didn’t you girl?” he says, reaching out to pet the Beagle’s soft, shiny head.

“I’m not surprised,” Michael says with feeling. “You always had a way with strays.”

The emotion in Michael’s voice is like a vice squeezing Alex’s heart. “Is that how you thought of yourself in high school, Guerin? A stray?”

Michael won’t look at him, staring out the window at the miles of empty desert. “Let’s see: homeless…alone…unwanted…starved for affection – yeah, that sounds about right. The only difference between your shelter dog and me back then is I might have had fewer fleas.” The joke falls flat, the sarcastic words negated by the underlying ache in his voice.   

Alex tenses against a wave of painful memories. “I had a home. Sometimes I wished I didn’t. But I was familiar with the rest – feeling like an outsider, lonely, unlovable. Takes one to know one, I guess.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

“Do you?”

The questions hang in the air for a long time. Alex thinks maybe Michael’s done talking, but he hears him clear his throat and continue. “I, uh. What you did for me back then . . . I realize I never really thanked you. You have no idea what it meant to me. Just that…kindness.”

Alex swallows hard. He’s not ready for this conversation right now. He thinks he may never be ready. He risks a glance at Michael and has his breath stolen away when their eyes meet, the emotional connection between them sparking like a live wire. It’s all he can do to tear himself away and concentrate on the road.

“Thank you, Alex,” Michael says. He opens his mouth to speak again, but seems to think better of it.  

If there’s one thing Alex is grateful for after 10 years in the military, it’s the ability to keep a firm grip on his composure at times like this, when his thoughts and feelings are waging a war for dominance inside him. He breathes in through his nose, clenches his jaw tight and gives a small, sharp nod. Hopefully Michael knows him well enough to let the subject lie for now.  

This exhausting, confusing day is far from over. Alex needs to stay focused on what’s ahead. He has to hold himself together to be there for Kyle and Maria when they see Michael again. It won’t be long now. Up ahead on the right he sees the Welcome to Roswell sign reflecting the late afternoon sun. Slowing down, he makes the turn onto the road that leads to the cabin.

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess this leaves no question about my personal political beliefs and disgust with what's happening in America now. It's probably why I prefer losing myself in writing and reading about these characters to watching the heartbreaking reality of this insane world.  
> Thank you to all the wonderful writers in this fandom who transport me every day for a few minutes or hours -- and to those of you who have been so kind as to comment on this story.  
> There is a lot more to come...


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s well past sunset when Alex is finally able to get a minute to himself. The hours since they arrived at the cabin had been an emotional roller coaster ride, as Michael replayed for Kyle and Maria everything he’d told Alex the night before. Jesus, had it really been less than 24 hours since Guerin showed up at his door? Unbelievable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

***

April 2024, Alex

It’s well past sunset when Alex is finally able to get a minute to himself. The hours since they arrived at the cabin had been an emotional roller coaster ride, as Michael replayed for Kyle and Maria everything he’d told Alex the night before.  Jesus, had it really been less than 24 hours since Guerin showed up at his door? Unbelievable.

The events of the evening replay in his mind like a series of vivid snapshots:

Maria’s hands raised to her mouth in shock when Michael gets out of the car.

Kyle’s face twisted in rage as he puts Guerin on the ground with one punch.   

Michael’s nose bleeding and eye swelling, even as he smirks up at Kyle from the dirt.   

And Alex, himself, playing the roles of friend, ex-lover, referee and peacekeeper in an exhausting one-man improv show.  

How was this his life right now?

Thankfully, Kyle’s fight with Michael had ended after that single punch and they’d seemed to come to some unspoken cease fire declaration for now.   

Alex has just come back inside from walking Maria to her car. The scent of her perfume lingers on his shoulder from their hug goodbye.

“What are you going to do?” she’d whispered near his ear, before pushing him to arms’ length to search his eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he’d answered, trying for casual.

“Don’t play dumb. There’s only one reason he’s here now. He came back for _you_ , Alex.” 

“Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t have to. He still looks at you like there’s no one else in the room -- or in the universe, for that matter. But I’m having trouble getting a clear reading on your feelings.”

“Join the club,” Alex sighed. He pulled her close for a final hug, kissed her cheek then opened the car door for her, making her promise to text that she got home OK.

Then he’d escaped to the sanctuary of his bathroom. The adrenaline high that had been keeping him going was quickly wearing off. With his remaining guests playing nicely enough with each other that there wasn’t imminent threat of further bloodshed, he needed to take care of his own needs, namely taking off his prosthesis, soaking in a hot bath and trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

***

Michael

Michael’s throat is dry. He’s pretty sure he’s talked more in the past 24 hours than he has in the last month. Much of his time in recent years has been spent on his own; inventing in his lab and renovating his house -- the house he had bought with the hope it would one day be _their_ house. Their _home._ Years ago, he would have considered wishing for that kind of happy ever after ending as pathetic as it was impossible. But it’s kept him going through a lot of lonely days and nights since he left Roswell. Hopefully he won’t have to wait much longer to see if it has any chance of coming true.

Here he is at last in Alex’s cabin after spending the whole day together. It’s been a kind of out-of-body experience to see him again, hear his voice, smell his scent, kiss his lips, feel strong hands holding him, turning him, bending him over… But their frantic physical coupling was the least of it. From the moment their eyes met, he’s known beyond any doubt that the soul-deep connection between them has not faded. If Alex will just give him a chance, he’ll do anything to earn his forgiveness and regain his trust.

For the moment that means maintaining a delicate truce with Valenti. He has to hand it to Kyle, he didn’t freak out once when hearing the whole crazy story. In fact, he seemed genuinely intrigued by it all, asking far more questions than either Alex or Maria. Michael is now in the improbable situation of sitting at the kitchen table with an ice pack held to his cheek, watching Valenti pull ingredients out of the fridge to make them something to eat.

Both men can hear the sound of the plumbing as the bathtub fills in the next room. “Finally,” Kyle breathes, looking in that direction. “I can only imagine how many hours he’s been wearing that prosthesis. He pushes himself too far.”

“He’s always been stubborn,” Michael mutters, half under his breath.

“Speaking of stubborn, are you going to let me take a look at your eye?” Kyle asks him, in full M.D. mode.

“I’m thinking that’s a ‘no’, doc,” he drawls. “I won’t be letting you within arm’s length again anytime soon.”

Kyle starts cracking eggs into a bowl. “So, are you going to tell me why you let me hit you before? I’m sure you could have used your alien ninja mind powers to stop my fist in mid-air or something.”

Exhaling deeply, Michael tells him the truth. “Because I had it coming to me, man. Because if our positions were reversed, I’d have taken a swing at you too. Or worse.”

Kyle turns around and leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. The earlier rage that had been aimed in his direction was still a simmering anger, but his voice was steady and calm. “Yeah, you did deserve it, you son of a bitch. What you did - disappearing like that - really fucked him up.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do. There were times I thought he’d go off the deep end. Even after he stopped obsessively searching for you, he’d still bury himself in his work so deeply no one would see him for days at a time. He got so thin. So pale. Like a living ghost haunting this place. It finally got to the point where Maria, Liz and I had to threaten to Baker Act him unless he saw a therapist.”

“Shit,” Michael swallows hard, dropping his head into his hands. What the fuck had he done?

“Yeah, asshole. So forgive me if I’m not thrilled to see you back here to put him through this crap all over again. With what you told us, there’s no way you’ll be sticking around. Not if ‘Michael Guerin’ is going to die so you can hide out in some kind of alien witness protection program.”

“You’re right, I can’t stay here more than another day or so.”

“Well, fuck you, Guerin,” Kyle growls, hands lowering to his sides with fists clenched. “How dare you claim to care for him so much when you pull this kind of shit?”

Michael’s pulse quickens, but he keeps his emotions reined in. He gets it. Valenti’s just trying to protect Alex from more pain. “I know you don’t want to believe this, but I had no choice five years ago. It’s different now. I’m going to ask him to come with me.”

“Where?”

“That’s something for me and him to talk about. But…”

“But what?”

“The organization I’m part of now, it’s a private university we founded, centered around some of the best minds on the planet. It’s a small school in a quiet town. Under the radar for now. But what’s happening there has the potential to literally change the future. Real change, Valenti, to help aliens and humans.”

“And?” Kyle asks, looking unimpressed.

“And, they’re looking for humans to join them. Medicine is just one of the fields we’re working in, but it’s one of the most exciting. You could be a part of it.”

“Me?”

“We told them about you – about how you helped Isobel, how you treated us like people, not like freaks. About how you and Alex brought down Project Shepard and Jesse Manes. You’d be a valuable asset to the team.”

“What, like this is you offering me a job?” Kyle scoffs.

“It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Think about it: our knowledge, our technology… it can be put to work to do more than heal wounds.”

“You’re talking about curing diseases?”

“Maybe. Definitely advancing treatments. Correcting genetic abnormalities. Growing new organs.” Michael can tell that he now has Kyle’s full attention.

“That sounds… I’d have to know a lot more,” he says, looking thoughtful. “I still don’t get why you’d ask me, though.”

“Look, we’ve never liked each other, but I don’t have to like you to…” the end of Michael’s sentence trails off, as he rubs the back of his neck and looks away.

“What? You don’t have to like me to what?”

“Oh my god, you’re going to make me say it out loud, aren’t you?”

Relaxing back into a casual lean on the counter, Kyle raises his eyebrows and waits, the hint of a grin quirking the corner of his mouth.   

“OK, Valenti. You win. I don’t have to like you to respect you. Happy now?”

Kyle laughs to himself, turning his attention back to cooking. “Wow. Admitting that must have been painful.”

“You have no idea.”

“Do you like onions and cheese in your scrambled eggs?”

“I’ll be lucky if you don’t poison mine,” Michael grumbles.

“Relax. I swore to ‘do no harm’, remember?”

Michael gestures to the ice pack he’s still holding to his sore eye. “It’s a little late for that, don’t ya think?”

Laughing, Kyle glances back at him over his shoulder.

“Guerin?”

“Yeah?”

“You understand that if you hurt him again that oath goes out the window, right?”

“You’ve made that clear, doc.”

“Good,” Kyle answers, pouring the eggs into a sizzling hot skillet. “Now tell me more about this job offer.”

 

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How can less than 24 hours in the life of my favorite two characters in the world take more than 2 weeks to write?  
> More story to come. Thanks to everyone for hanging in there. This is the longest thing I've ever written, but I can finally see the end on the horizon.  
> Malex forever!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex overhears a late night conversation between Kyle and Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

Alex

  
Alex has been hovering in the hall outside the kitchen for a minute or two, listening to a conversation that’s as strange as it is fascinating. Sure, some people call it eavesdropping. He prefers to think of it as intelligence gathering. Tomayto, tomahto.

“Time travel?” he hears Kyle ask.  
  
“Just as impossible on Antar as on Earth, I’m afraid,” Michael answers.  
  
“Super hearing?”  
  
Michael scoffs, “you mean like dogs?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“So, no enhanced sense of smell either?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“X-ray vision?”  
  
“Regrettably, no.”  
  
“Invisibility cloak?”  
  
“Get real,” Michael snorts.  
  
“How about breathing under water?”  
  
“No, man. We don’t have gills.”  
  
“Asexual reproduction?”  
  
“Fuck, no. What would be the fun in that?” Michael answers, sounding outraged by the idea.  
  
Alex has to stifle a laugh as he moves quietly toward them.  
  
Kyle keeps up his questioning, unfazed. “Teleportation?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Can you fly?”  
  
Michael has apparently had enough at this point. “What the fuck, Valenti? No, of course we can’t fly.”  
  
“But that would be pretty cool,” interrupts Alex from the doorway.  
  
Both men whip their heads around to look at him. Alex watches Michael’s expression go from surprised, to fond, to soft and vulnerable.  
  
“Hell yeah, it would be!” Kyle says, clueless to the silent communication between his companions. “Alex, you look better. Sit down and eat, I kept yours warm in the oven.” He springs up from his chair and gets the plate of eggs and bacon.  
  
“Coffee?” Alex asks, hopefully.  
  
“Not at this hour,” Kyle replies, setting a tall glass of water in front of him instead. “Here, hydrate. Doctor’s orders.”  
  
Suddenly realizing he’s starving, Alex wolfs down his meal in no time flat while the others look on in silence.  
  
“That was great, Kyle. Thanks. So, you two can actually get along like grown ups. Who knew?”  
  
Michael and Kyle glance at each other. Kyle shrugs. Michael rolls his eyes.  
  
“Michael – I need to talk to Kyle. Could you give us a minute?”  
  
“Yeah, sure. I’ll just, uh, get some air,” he says. With a last look between the two of them, he leaves the room.  
  
When the front door closes behind Michael, Kyle leans forward, resting his forearms on the table and turning his full attention to Alex. “Well, this situation is all kinds of fucked up. You OK?”  
  
“Yes and no. He’s alive. That’s what I’ve been hoping for every day for five years,” Alex says, running a hand absently through his hair.

Kyle frowns. “He should have found a way to let you know.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You realize he’s leaving again. Soon.”  
  
“Yeah.”

Alex shifts in his chair and looks at the clock on the stove. “It’s late, Kyle. Thanks for staying, but you should probably head home.”  
  
“I can hang out if you want,” Kyle offers.  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck, Alex offers a weak smile. “We don’t need a chaperone.”  
  
Kyle waits until Alex looks up and meets his eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says slowly, shaking his head.  
  
“Yeah. Me too.”  
  
***

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I'm not sure where this came from. It was not what I was going to write next in this story... then Guerin and Valenti just wouldn't shut up in my head and this chapter happened.
> 
> You guys have been so kind to me with the comments and encouragement. I truly appreciate it. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I leave you two alone, will you give me your word you won’t brainwash him into running away with you?” Kyle asks.
> 
> Michael wonders how much his word is actually worth in Kyle’s eyes, but he doesn’t hesitate to give it. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you  
\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

April 2024, Michael

Sage, creosote and desert dust scent the air outside Alex’s cabin. Michael closes his eyes and lets the sense memory carry him back to nights spent in his old pickup with nothing but the moon, the stars and the sound of distant coyotes for company. So much of his life has been spent alone, never truly belonging anywhere. Even after being reunited with his own siblings he felt like he was on the outside looking in.

Guerin the misfit. The shiftless town drunk. The outcast who adopted the guise of a loner and the smirking swagger of a rebel. He’d tried to fill the dark spaces inside with alcohol and acetone and casual sex. He’d survived on fantasies of flying away in a spaceship to a planet where even someone like him might be wanted.

Nothing helped. Nothing filled the emptiness except the love he’d found with Alex. It was strong, that love -- that connection. He has to believe it still has the power to heal them both.

The front door opens and closes on squeaky hinges, announcing Valenti’s approach. “You can go in,” he says. It seems like he wants to say a lot more, but he puts his hands on his hips and stares at his feet instead. 

Digging his wallet out of his back pocket, Michael takes out a card and hands it to him. “You can contact me through this number. Just leave your name and a message and someone will get it to me right away.”

Kyle stares at it, turning it over in his hand like he’s not quite sure what to make of it.

“I can have the head of the medical research department call you,” Michael continues. “They’ll arrange for you to visit, have an interview.”

“Even if Alex doesn’t go with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“You’re his friend. You were here for him when I was gone. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me. You owe _him_ ,” Kyle declares.

“You think I don’t know that?”

Kyle shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking between his car and the cabin door. “If I leave you two alone, are you going to kidnap him and disappear in the middle of the night?”

“No kidnapping.”

“Will you give me your word you won’t brainwash him into running away with you?”

Michael wonders how much his word is actually worth in Kyle’s eyes, but he doesn’t hesitate to give it. “Yes.”

Kyle nods, sighs and looks up at the heavens as if searching for some kind of sign. “Do right by him, Guerin,” are his last words before he goes to his car and drives off.

***

Michael has no idea what to expect as he opens the door to go inside, but it definitely isn’t finding the living room and kitchen dark, silent and empty. He walks slowly toward the light spilling out from the bedroom and has to catch his breath at the sight that greets him from the doorway. Sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed only in black boxer briefs, Alex is watching him, his expression unreadable.

Michael’s legs go weak. He leans on the door frame for support as his mind spins in a hundred directions at once. He has to clear his throat before he can get any words out, finally managing to whisper, “Say something.”

“Come here.”

Alex’s dark eyes never leave his as Michael moves across the room to stand directly in front of him. Within the space of inches that separates them, there are years, and miles, and tears, and heartache. Alex reaches out and takes his hand, making them all vanish for the moment. 

“When do you have to leave?” he asks, staring at their linked fingers.

“Tomorrow.”

“We’ve never had enough time,” Alex says, sadly.

“We can have all the time in the world now -- if you come with me.”

Alex looks up at him and shakes his head. “Tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Tonight, I can’t… I just can’t. OK?”

“OK.”

He feels Alex squeeze his hand and tug, pulling him down so they are lying face to face on the bed, heads sharing a pillow. Alex reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “I miss the old wild Guerin curls,” he whispers with a hint of a smile as he teases a short curl around one finger.

Michael’s hand brushes gently across Alex’s cheek, then cups the back of his neck to bring their foreheads together. Their bodies press against each other, fitting together as naturally as they always had, lips meeting in the softest of chaste kisses.

“I love you, Alex. I never stopped. I never will.”

Alex’s eyes close for a long time as Michael runs his hands soothingly up and down his back. When he opens them again a single tear escapes to run down his cheek. Michael kisses it away and gathers Alex even closer to him, feeling moisture leak from behind his own eyelids. They lay that way for a long time – minutes, hours -- time is irrelevant when Alex is in his arms. Eventually Alex’s muscles go slack and his breathing evens out. With one last kiss to his forehead, Michael follows him down into sleep.

_(to be continued)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to give them a declaration of love and a night in each other's arms before it's time for Alex to make his decision.  
> Stay tuned...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after the night before. Time is running out. Decisions must be made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

 

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

 

April, 2024.    
Alex

Just like every other morning, Alex’s internal alarm clock wakes him before dawn. But this isn’t every other morning. A warm body is pressed against his back, one muscular arm draped possessively around his waist.  Hot breath tickles the short hairs on the back of his neck and sends warmth pooling in his groin. The last thing on earth he wants to do is leave the cocoon of peace he’s never found with anyone but Michael. But just like every other morning of his life, Alex is a man who faces facts, and the fact is their time together is running out. They have to talk, and that won’t happen if they stay in bed.  

The sunrise finds him sitting on the old porch swing, finishing his first cup of coffee and throwing a ball for Lucy to fetch. It’s her favorite game, but one she abandons quickly to greet Michael when he emerges with sleepy eyes and his own mug of coffee. Wearing the same sinfully tight jeans and white t-shirt from yesterday he looks rumpled and sleep-warm and entirely too fuckable. Alex finds himself swallowing hard and fighting the urge to take him back to bed – the hell with talking.  

“Would it kill you to sleep in sometime?” Michael grumbles around a huge yawn, as he tosses Lucy’s ball into the yard for her to chase.

“I like this time of day. It’s when I do my best thinking,” Alex replies. Steadying himself with a deep breath he continues. “It’s tomorrow. Time to talk.”

Michael nods, settles into an Adirondack chair opposite Alex, and waits for him to start.

“You say you want me to come with you. Maybe you should begin with where.”

“It’s a small college town on the Florida panhandle coast.  Max and Isobel live there too, but Max travels a lot.  Antarians like to live in groups with a lot of our own kind.  Several years ago a group of scientists and educators decided to start a private university. They actually found one in a town that had fallen on hard times, so they bought it and created some tech start-ups nearby and began bringing the place back to life.  It’s a great environment for us. University towns are known for brilliant people, new ideas and a transient population, so it’s been easy to blend in.”

“How long have you been there?”

“A little over a year. I like it. No one there has ever heard of the Evans twins or Michael Guerin. Perfect place to reinvent ourselves.”

Florida is about as different from Roswell as Alex can think of. He’s finding it hard to picture his dusty cowboy among lush palm trees. “So who are you now that you’ve been reinvented? You have a new name?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but the idea of Michael Guerin not existing any more stings more than he expected.

“It’s still Michael. Just not Guerin. I have no idea where that name even came from. So getting the chance to change it was a good thing. Especially since…” his voice cracks slightly as he trails off, rubbing a hand across his face.”

It’s a minute before he continues. “I found out my mother’s name, Alex. Her name was Mara. My name is Michael Mara now and it feels … _right_ … to make her name part of my life, you know?”

“I understand,” Alex says. He understands in a way that maybe no one else on the planet ever could. He alone was there to see the woman behind the glass. The woman Michael was sure he knew. The prisoner he was prepared to die with if he couldn’t set her free. Of course taking her name was right.

“I’m a mechanical engineer now. Turns out I’m not only good at fixing engines and rebuilding spaceships, I also have a knack for inventing ways to make all kinds of machines work more efficiently. Michael Mara holds a few pretty important patents.”

A tug pulls at the corner of Alex’s mouth at the bittersweet memory of the day Michael showed him his secret laboratory under the old airstream. That was the first day he’d seen real, physical proof of the man’s genius. 

“In fact,” Michael continues, looking up at Alex through his lashes, with a sly grin, “Michael Mara recently sold a patent for a boatload of money. He’s pretty much set for life.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Michael affirms with a cocky smirk.

Alex never could resist playing along when he turned on the playful charm. “Hmmm. Sounds like this Michael Mara guy is smart, successful...”

Tilting his head to the side with a self-satisfied look and a wink, Michael purrs “Don’t forget devastatingly handsome.”

“And modest.”

“Definitely.”

“Don’t tell me he’s an upstanding citizen too,” Alex teases. “I don’t think I could take the shock.” Before the last joking word leaves his mouth he wishes he could call it back, seeing Michael’s golden eyes lose their amused twinkle in a split second.   

Restless energy pushes Michael out of the chair and sends him pacing across the porch, eventually turning back to look at Alex with his arms crossed over his chest. He inhales deeply and meets Alex’s eyes. “Do you remember when you came back to Roswell and accused me of wasting my life?  You told me that you couldn’t be with a criminal?

“I shouldn’t have said—"

“No, listen. You weren’t wrong. I was a fucking mess for a long time.  All you did was call me on it.”

“You’d been dealing with a mountain of shit your whole life. I was an asshole for judging you. For sleeping with you one night and rejecting you the next, just because I let my dad get inside my head.  I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry for disappearing and not letting you know I was all right. I should never have done that to you.”

For a moment they’re both silent, processing each other’s apologies. Then Michael takes a few steps closer to Alex and states his case. “We both hurt each other in the past. But it’s the _past_ , Alex. I want you to know that things are different now. I’m not the town loser anymore. I’m doing work that I like. I have a house. I’m a goddamned taxpayer, for fuck’s sake.  I’m doing my best to be someone who’s good enough for you.  Someone you don’t have to be ashamed of.”

Alex’s stomach drops to his feet. “Oh God, Michael. You… You are amazing. You’re brave and loyal. And the way you protect the people you love…  I hate that you think you’ve got to turn yourself into someone else to make me proud. I loved the old Michael, don’t tell me he’s completely gone.”

“I’m still _me_. It’s just my _life_ that’s different,” Michael says, moving slowly until he’s in Alex’s personal space. Alex can see each caramel-colored fleck in those amazing hazel eyes. He sees the truth behind every word he’s saying and it fills him up, threatens to spill over. The moment is too fraught. He steals a page from the other man’s book and tries to lighten the mood.

“So, you haven’t taken up golf or ballroom dancing?”

“Fuck, no. Can you imagine?” Michael huffs a derogatory laugh.

“No,” Alex says, joining in the laughter.

Another pause stretches out between them and Alex knows Michael is just waiting for a sign that it’s all right to touch him. But there’s still much more to be said.  He stalls. “I need another cup of coffee. You?”  And before Michael can answer he takes both of their mugs, calls for Lucy and goes inside the cabin.

While he’s still refilling their cups, he hears Michael come in and linger at the kitchen door.  He glances over his shoulder. “You still take it black?”

“Yeah…. Alex—”

“Sit down, OK?  You’ve told me about your new life.  Let me talk about mine.”

Michael sits and Alex puts the coffee mug down in front of him before taking his own chair.

“I felt like I lost a piece of myself when you left.  On top of finding out what my father had done to your family and dealing with the aftermath of my injury – it all snowballed into a depression that brought me to my knees. If it hadn’t been for Kyle and Maria and Liz…”

“Kyle told me a little,” Michael says.

Alex shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about that time in my life. Just know that it took a couple of years to climb out of it. And another year to make any kind of peace with it. Eventually I came to terms with the fact that life continues, even when you might prefer it didn’t.”

“Alex,” Michael scolds.

Alex cuts him off, “Don’t sit there and tell me you’ve never had those kinds of thoughts yourself.”

Michael swallows hard and looks away, giving Alex his answer.

“I’ve always liked solving puzzles. I’m good at it. I’ve fit the pieces of my life back together to make something stable that works for me – my friends, my dog, spending time in nature. I’m doing consulting work that I find interesting, but I’m not letting it consume me. It’s been … enough.”

“And you’re afraid to risk having that carefully constructed puzzle fall apart.” Michael says, slowly.

“Terrified,” Alex agrees.

Michael reaches across the table and puts his hand over Alex’s. “I get it. I show up on your radar again and you don’t know if there’s a place where I fit anymore.”

Alex nods, looking down at their hands. He wants to curl their fingers together, but he feels frozen in place. “You didn’t just show up on the radar, you crashed down right in the middle of my life! Don’t get me wrong, it’s good – _great_ \-- to know you’re alive. It's incredible to see you again. But it’s knocked my world sideways.”

“Sorry.”

“Michael, you’ve known me for a long time. You know what I’m like. I’m the guy who does his research, who looks at all his options. I never do anything without a plan – _and_ a couple of good backup plans.”

Michael bites his bottom lip and nods.

“I’m not someone who drops everything to run away to a place he's never even heard of before with his ex-boyfriend who - by the way - has a new identity.”  Alex exhales, moves his hand from under Michael's, then wraps it around his wrist and squeezes. “I’m not that guy. I can’t go with you today. I realize I can’t stop you from having Isobel or someone change my mind…”

Michael is horrified, jerking his hand back from Alex’s. “What the fuck? Is that what you think of me? That I would force you to do _anything_ against your will?  That I’d want to control you?”

The question has been plaguing Alex since Michael admitted the Antarians had used mass hypnosis to help cover up the alien trio’s sudden disappearance. He doesn’t want to believe it could be true. But how can he be sure?

“Goddamnit Alex. You and I grew up the same way – trapped and powerless, at the mercy of people who were supposed to love us but decided to inflict pain on us instead. I know what it’s like to be under someone else’s control, just like you do. I have the scars to prove it. You really think I would ever put you in that position?” Michael looks desperate, close to flying apart.

Alex shakes his head quickly and tries to get Michael to meet his eyes. “No. I can't really believe you'd hurt me that way. It’s all just so hard to process. I'm so confused.”

It takes a moment for Michael to calm down. Alex waits, watching him with wide eyes.

“I never expected you to pack you bags and run away with me today like this is some fucked up fairy tale. That’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking you to consider coming to live with me and making a life there together – when you’re ready. If there was any way I could stay here and prove to you how serious I am, I would.  But Roswell is literally the one place Michael Guerin can never be seen after today. I had to come to you this way, to let you see it in my eyes, so maybe you’d believe me when I say I love you and I want you and I will wait for you. Just tell me there’s a chance.”

Alex wipes tears from his eyes, too overwhelmed to speak. Michael brings his hand to cup his cheek, locking their gazes together.

“Alex—” he breathes, with the softest of smiles. “I’m good at puzzles too. If you let me, I can help move the pieces around. I can even bend them into new shapes with my freaking _mind.”_

Alex lets a weak chuckle escape. He'd spent years making himself come to terms with the fact that a life with Michael was impossible. Then again, he used to believe a lot of things were impossible. Things changed when he fell in love with a lonely kid who turned out to be an acetone-drinking, pod-hatching, alien cowboy with his own spaceship. What did ‘impossible’ even mean anymore?    

Right now, he has to believe in what he can see, hear and feel. He can see the honesty in Michael’s eyes. He can hear the emotion behind the words he’s saying. And he can feel the fierce love pouring through the touch of Michael’s hand against his cheek. He leans into it and asks, “How much time before you have to go?”

“A couple hours,” Michael sighs, and looks down at the table.

Alex reaches over and tilts his chin up so their eyes meet. He takes a moment just to look at him. There's never been a more beautiful sight in this world or any other. He doubts there's ever been a more intense connection. What had Michael called it back then? Cosmic?

“Then let’s not waste them,” he says.

Taking Michael’s hand, he drops a kiss on the palm before leading him to the bedroom.

_(to be continued)_

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again everyone for your patience. This chapter took a long time. Not too far left to go in this journey. I appreciate the lovely comments and encouragement so many of you have left along the way.  
> More soon (and yes, the next chapter has smut!)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few feet from the bedroom door, Michael pulls on Alex’s hand to stop him. When Alex turns, the expression he sees on Michael face makes him freeze in place. “What’s wrong?”
> 
> Why has he stopped in the middle of the hallway? He’s not sure he can even explain it to himself. He wants take Alex to bed so much his whole body vibrates with it.
> 
> “I…. I need you to tell me this isn’t some kind of goodbye fuck. I know you’re not coming with me today. But you still haven’t said if you’ll give us a chance at a future. If you can’t … if this is the last time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

April, 2024  
Michael

 

A few feet from the bedroom door, Michael pulls on Alex’s hand to stop him. When Alex turns, the expression he sees on Michael face makes him freeze in place. “What’s wrong?”

Why has he stopped in the middle of the hallway? He’s not sure he can even explain it to himself. He wants take Alex to bed so much his whole body vibrates with it.

“I…. I need you to tell me this isn’t some kind of goodbye fuck. I know you’re not coming with me today. But you still haven’t said if you’ll give us a chance at a future. If you can’t … if this is the last time…”

“Michael,” Alex breathes, bringing both hands up to gently cup his face. “That’s not what’s happening. I swear to you.”

“That all you can say?” Michael asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Please,” Alex whispers, smoothing a thumb over Michael’s lips, begging for his understanding. “I can’t say everything you want to hear right now. But if you come to bed, I’ll try to show you.” With that he takes a step and tugs at Michael’s hand again until they’re in the room.   

With Alex making the first move to bring them here, Michael is content to let him take control, staying passive as Alex takes off his shirt, unbuttons his jeans and presses him down on the bed to take them off. Naked, looking up at the man standing over him, he feels a fresh flush of arousal course through his body; warm and liquid and sweet as honey. His right hand moves to lazily stroke his stiff cock.

Alex sits to remove the prosthetic and his clothes, giving Michael a moment to study his profile. From this angle, with his slightly upturned nose and a lock of black hair falling over his forehead, he could pass for the teenager who sat beside him in the toolshed half a lifetime ago. But when he turns to face him and runs a possessive hand up and down Michael’s thigh, the echo of the boy vanishes.  Alex is one-hundred percent man: strong, masculine and, for the moment at least, his. 

Hungry brown eyes meet his, making his stomach flutter. He licks his lips, blinks slowly and sees Alex’s pupils blow wide in response. Surging forward, Alex blankets him with his whole body, pushing him down into the soft mattress and bringing their erections together, drawing a moan which he swallows with a burning kiss.

Their kisses have always been a language known only to each other, written with soft lips and wet tongues and punctuated with teeth and the scratch of stubble. Sometimes Michael thinks that if all they could do was kiss, it would be more than enough.  He doesn’t believe in any god, but he’ll be damned if kissing Alex Manes isn’t a bona fide religious experience.

Alex tangles a hand in his short curls, changing the angle just so, never breaking the connection of their mouths.  For awhile Michael loses himself to the sensations, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, hands smoothing over Alex’s back, tightening his hold to bring them even closer.

He feels Alex roll them onto their sides and spread kisses across his face and down his neck and shoulders.  A warm hand smooths lower and lower down his spine, working knots out of stiff muscles, moving even further down to massage his ass, squeezing and kneading. Michael melts into the touch, going boneless until a single finger circles around his hole. He gasps around an indrawn breath.

“Sore?” Alex asks, withdrawing his hand. “Did I hurt you yesterday?”

“No. But if you stop that now, you’re gonna fucking _kill_ me,” Michael growls. He gives Alex’s ear a playful nip, and hears a dirty laugh in reply.

“Turn over for me, then.”

Michael willingly stretches out on his stomach, shivering in anticipation as Alex plants a line of wet kisses down the length of his back then blows across them, raising goosebumps.

“Tickles,” he complains, half-heartedly.

“Want me to stop?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Knowing hands spread him apart, quickly followed by a wet mouth, and if Alex didn’t have a hand on his back, keeping him in place, he’d have jumped off the bed the moment a hot, slick tongue began licking into him. Gripping the sheets, he does his best not to squirm. He can’t seem to still his mouth though, muttering a stream of blissed-out curses into the pillow.

A slippery finger joins Alex’s tongue, easing him open slowly. Pleasure builds inside him, curling his toes.  Alex’s mouth leaves him for a moment, only to be replaced with a cool drizzle of lube and another talented finger, pushing deeper now.

“Oh, fuuuck.”

“Easy,” Alex soothes. He resumes driving Michael insane with his tongue and fingers, curling them to rub across his prostate.

Knowing he’s not going to last long at this rate, Michael reaches back to try to push Alex away. “Wait, wait, wait…”

Alex takes mercy on him, climbing up his back to kiss his neck, one finger still teasing his hole. “Tell me what you want, Michael,” he purrs in his bedroom voice.

“Want you in me.”

“Mmmm, yeah,” Alex agrees.

Michael looks back over his shoulder with hooded eyes. “Wanna see you though. Ride you.”

“C’mere,” Alex says, lying on his back and pulling Michael into place on top of him.

Stroking Alex’s soft hair, Michael leans over and kisses him deeply and thoroughly, reaching down to surround both their cocks with one large hand, stroking them together until they’re both wet with pre-come and Alex is bucking into his hand, arching off the bed with need. With one last kiss Michael lifts himself up, brings Alex’s cock to his entrance, then slowly, slowly sinks down until he’s taken the full length inside.

“Oh, Christ,” Alex exclaims, holding Michael’s biceps in a bruising grip.

Michael holds his breath, getting used to the fullness and heat. He runs his fingers through Alex’s chest hair, relishing the bright pink blush painting his chest and face; his swollen red lips; his eyes glassy with lust. It’s a sight that has filled his dreams and fantasies for years – but today it’s real and he thanks the universe that he’s allowed to have this again. He leans forward for a quick kiss, then starts to raise and lower himself, setting a steady rhythm, feeling a bright thrill with each stroke against his prostate, seeing his pleasure reflected back on Alex’s face.

Alex’s hands seek out the place they’re joined together, sending little shocks through him as his fingers play around the rim. It’s too much, and Michael growls, reaching to capture both of Alex’s hands and pinning them down by his head, changing the angle, taking him even deeper, feeling sweat break out across his back and face.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Alex tells him and it makes his breath catch sharp in his chest.

Michael can only shake his head and lean down to kiss him, whispering “You are” against his mouth, as he increases the pace.

Somehow Alex’s hands get free and wrap around his waist, steadying him as he thrusts up into him relentlessly. Michael feels himself getting closer and closer to losing control and knows that no matter how much he wants to keep Alex inside him, his climax is inevitable.  It’s been too long. It feels too good. And beyond the physical sensations, their bodies’ connection intensifies the emotional bond that unites them. It’s body and soul; pure and powerful, and it sends Michael tumbling over the edge, trembling and panting, collapsing to rest on Alex’s chest as he feels him spasm deep inside him.

***

Alex

Alex is drifting, floating, tingling, like those morphine-soaked days in the hospital, but this feeling is infinitely better. The source of his current high is plastered to him like a starfish, heavy and hot and breathing hard. Michael:  the most addictive drug he’s ever known. The man should come with his own warning label.

Warm breath and the flick of a tongue against his neck get his attention. He turns his head and meets Michael’s waiting lips with the gentlest of kisses.

“Hey,” Michael whispers, drawing back, “I gotta move.”

Alex blinks and makes a noise deep in his throat when Michael pulls off him and gets out of bed. The momentary loss of contact makes him shiver, then Michael is back, cleaning them both off with his discarded t-shirt.

Tossing it away, he flops down on his back and reaches for Alex, pulling so his weight is half on top of him. The scent of Michael and sex surrounds him. He breathes deeply, then lets out a satisfied sigh.

“I wish—” Michael begins.

“Shhh, don’t. I have a thing about wishing. Nothing good comes of it.”

“That’s not always true.”

“You want to talk philosophy or you want to kiss me?” Alex challenges.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the grin spread across Michael’s face. “Dumb question.”

Kissing wins. Long, slow, deep kisses alternate with barely-there touches of lips as they become fluent in this language again after years apart.

“Alex,” Michael breathes, searching his face for a hint of what he’s thinking and feeling.

Before he can continue, the quiet in the room is shattered by a series of tones coming from Michael’s phone.

“What’s that?”

Michael sighs, “The bat signal.”

Reluctantly, he pulls away to grab his jeans off the floor and check his phone. He looks back at Alex, biting his lip.  

“You have to go,” Alex says.

“I’m being picked up in 30 minutes. Max is sending someone to make sure I stick to the plan. He’s probably worried that once I saw you, I’d never be able to leave.”

Dropping the phone, he reaches out to caress Alex’s cheek. “He knows me too well.”

Alex presses his face into Michael’s palm. “Time for a shower?”

“I have to get my bag out of your car. Meet me in the bathroom? You know how much I believe in conserving water.” Michael winks at him, trying to lighten the mood, then pulls on his jeans and heads to the front door, leaving Alex staring blankly at the ceiling above the bed.

Showering together is awkward with his injury, but they make it work. The shower bench even comes in handy when Michael drops to his knees and works Alex’s cock with his talented mouth ‘til his cries echo off the tile.

Afterwards, dried off and dressed, they sit side by side on the living room sofa. Michael takes his hand. “I have something for you, so we can stay in touch.”

From his bag he produces what looks like an ordinary smart phone. For a minute Alex thinks the device is dead, but when he touches it the colorful screen shimmers and comes to life.

“It’s programmed just for you,” Michael explains. “Only your fingerprints and voice will activate it. This thing is encrypted in ways even I don’t understand and it never needs to be charged. It’s not a regular phone – it will only connect you with me. You can call or message me any time.

With a swipe of Alex’s thumb a picture appears, and for a second he forgets how to breathe. It’s Michael, sitting on the steps of the old Airstream wearing a half-buttoned shirt and his black cowboy hat, golden-brown eyes warm and open.    

“I mean it, Alex – _any time_. _All_ the time. I want to talk to you and text you as much as you’ll let me without driving you crazy.”

Alex is still staring down at the picture when Michael’s hand lifts his chin to bring them face to face. There’s a determined gleam in his eyes.

“I am not saying goodbye to you today. I told you I’d wait and I meant it. Now that we’ve reconnected, I’m asking you not to shut me out. Please. Don’t give up on us now, Alex.”

Unable to speak, Alex nods his agreement. He leans forward and kisses Michael, gathering him in his arms to hold so, so tightly. Michael kisses the side of his face and rocks them together, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat.

Sensing the intensity of her master’s emotions, Lucy pushes her snout between them and whines. She scratches against Michael’s arm to make him release Alex.

“It’s okay, girl,” Alex says, petting her until she calms down. She settles for a minute, then her ears prick up and she looks to the front door. A car is crunching its way up the gravel driveway.

“You take good care of him, girl,” Michael tells the dog. “And you – you take good care of yourself,” he instructs Alex as he pulls him near enough to touch foreheads.

As the signal tones ring again on Michael’s phone, they crash together in a feverish kiss. Tears blur Alex’s vision as they separate. He wraps his arms around his middle to keep from flying apart.

With a last look over his shoulder, Michael whispers ‘I love you’ and walks out the door.

_(to be continued)_

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time will pass ... they will stay in touch.  
> This isn't the end of their story. Stay tuned.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Michael's departure, Kyle checks up on Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

Alex

From where he’s lying on the sofa, Alex’s field of vision includes the ceiling, walls and the top of a window. Through the long afternoon hours he’s followed the progress of a spider building her delicate web in the corner of the window sill; thread upon thread, spiral upon spiral. It’s soothing; hypnotic. He thinks watching her weave the complex pattern following directions coded in her DNA should probably fill him with profound insights about life and the universe. But fuck deep thoughts. He’s too emotionally exhausted.

If it weren’t for Lucy whining and nudging at him to get up and feed her when the daylight fades, he might stay there all night.

“Ok, girl. Come on,” he says as he leads her into the kitchen, switching lamps on as he goes, listening to the dog’s claws clicking on the tile as she dances around his feet, excited as only a Beagle can be about dinnertime. He’s refilling her water bowl when he hears a car drive up outside.

For a second there’s a giddy rush of hope that it’s Michael coming back to him, like a scene straight out of one of those ridiculous chick-flicks Maria made him sit through in high school. Scolding himself, he makes his way to the front window. It’s Kyle, getting out of his car with a bag of food from the Crashdown and a bottle in a brown paper bag. Alex opens the front door and steps out to meet him.

Looking a little unsure, his visitor stops a few feet short of the steps and glances at the door over Alex’s shoulder. “Did he leave?”

Alex just nods. Kyle lifts up the bag and the bottle and raises an eyebrow in question.

He’s not really in the mood for company right now, but he gestures Kyle inside. On autopilot he moves around the kitchen to get plates and glasses, setting the table while Kyle sits down and opens the bottle of Jameson.

“The good stuff, huh? Thought you were trying to pay back student loans.”

“I’ll be doing that til I’m 80. Gotta live a little every now and then,” Kyle says as he pours them both a couple of fingers. They clink glasses without a word and drink.

The food smells good and Alex hasn’t had a thing all day, but after one bite of his burger he pushes his plate away.  

“If we’re going to get drunk you should really eat something first,” Kyle says around a mouthful of fries.

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. Maybe later. I need to take Lucy out. Be back in a few.”

He feels Kyle’s eyes on him as he calls the dog and leads her out to the yard. Before long, his friend comes outside with the bottle and glasses to take a seat on the porch steps. Alex flops down beside him, both watching Lucy sniffing the desert air.   

“Uh…nice night,” Kyle says awkwardly.

Alex turns and rolls his eyes at him. “It’s OK. You can ask. I’m not going to dissolve in tears at the sound of his name like some teenage girl.” He finishes his drink and hopes that’s true.  

Kyle gives him a quick side glance then looks back out into the distance. “You didn’t go with him.”

“No.”

“Is it over?”

Alex’s brows draw together as he considers the question. “As long as we’re both breathing, I doubt it will ever be over.”

“So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know right now. I didn’t go with him … but we didn’t say goodbye”

Not sure what to say to that, Kyle refills their glasses and changes the subject. “Did he tell you he kind of offered me a job?”

“Really? Doing what?”

“Working with the aliens at that university. Medical research. He made it sound like the work they’re doing is amazing.”

Alex can hear genuine interest in his voice, which surprises him. “I thought you really liked being a doctor, working at the hospital.”

“I do…” Kyle hesitates for a moment. “But the idea of being part of breakthroughs that could change the lives of thousands, or even millions of people – that’s something I never dreamed I’d be able to do.”

“You’d leave Roswell?”

“Sure. Mom’s planning to retire next year and move to Arizona to be near her sister. With dad gone and Rosa back… there are a lot of painful memories for her here.”

“Yeah.”

Kyle turns toward Alex, staring at his profile. “A lot of painful ones for you here, too.”

Alex huffs a bitter laugh and brings both hands to his face to rub his red, tired eyes. “Yeah.”

Raising his glass, Kyle tips it toward him and mutters, “Home, sweet home, right?”

They drink in comfortable silence as night falls around them, Lucy joining them on the porch, head resting in Alex’s lap as he absentmindedly pets her. The whisky is doing its job. He’s feeling pleasantly buzzed. “You’re a good friend, Kyle,” he says, reaching out to pat him on the arm. Wait… if he’s saying sappy shit like that he’s probably more drunk than he thinks.

Kyle tilts his head at him like he knows it’s the alcohol talking – or at least kicking Alex’s usual inhibitions in the ass.  “Uh-huh. I think you’ve probably had enough on an empty stomach, Manes.”

“You’re the doctor,” Alex agrees, hearing the slur in his words.

“That, I am.”

“So, doc, you got anything in your little black bag that would fix my fucked-up life? Wait—do doctors even have little black bags anymore? And why are they little? Why not big black bags?”

Kyle shakes his head sadly and takes Alex’s glass away, “Yeah, you’re officially cut off.”

Standing up a little unsteadily, Alex leans against one of the poles supporting the porch roof, folding his arms over his chest. “Before he showed up, I was doing fine, you know.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have a good life here.”

“Who’re you trying to convince, me or you?” Kyle asks, earning himself a dirty look.

“I’m serious. I mean, there are millions of people who would give literally anything for the life I have: a safe place to live, enough food, friends, a job…”

Kyle nods agreeably, “That’s true.”

Stepping down into the yard, Alex kicks a large rock down the drive, watching it skitter across the gravel until he loses sight of it in the darkness. “It’s enough,” he declares stubbornly, his back turned to the cabin.

Kyle shakes his head and states the obvious. “Alex … if it was enough, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Leave it to the M.D. to cut to the heart of the matter.  Alex winces at the direct hit. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself under his breath, staring down at his feet.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s barely aware of Kyle’s approach until he feels a large hand clap him on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside and watch a really bad movie or play a videogame or something.”

Putting Kyle in charge of searching Netflix, Alex throws a bag of popcorn in the microwave and grabs beers from the fridge, trying not to think about the way his life is versus the way he wishes it could be. Over the sound of the kernels bursting he hears a call from the other room.

“Hey, Manes – your phone’s ringing.”

Confused, Alex reaches into his pocket and finds his phone right where it always is. Then he hears the unusual alert tones and practically runs to scoop up Michael’s ‘batphone’ from the coffee table. One quick swipe and he’s greeted by the photo on the home screen and a text message window.

M: _Can’t stop thinking about u. Miss u already._

Alex can’t keep the smile from his face as he reads the message again. Unable to tear his eyes away from the image of Michael, his finger hovers just above the screen, outlining the contours of that beautiful face.

Kyle clears his throat to get his attention. “Wow, I’d ask who that’s from, but the way you’re smiling, there can only be one answer,” he smirks, knowingly.

“I’m starting to think ‘resistance is futile,’” Alex breathes, still mesmerized by the picture.

Kyle rolls his eyes at him. “What is it with you and the nerdy Star Wars references?”

Alex looks at him and laughs out loud. It’s the most joyful sound Kyle’s heard from him for as long as he can remember and he can’t help smiling back.

“What? What’s so funny?”

The smell of burnt popcorn reaches them right before the shrill screech of the smoke detector and Alex laughs even harder watching Kyle scramble to open the windows and reach the alarm to disarm it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Manes?” Kyle yells from the kitchen, where he’s fanning smoke out the window with a dish towel. “Have you lost your mind? Come give me a hand.”

“Just a second,” Alex calls back. He’s still chuckling as he types.

          A: _Miss u 2. Good night._

          M: _GN, Alex._

At the end of Michael's text is a row of heart emojis that Alex is going to give him shit for later -- but not right now.

For now, he’s going to enjoy the warmth he feels spreading through him. He’s going to let himself laugh and joke and smile. He’s going to open himself up to the possibility of hope. And most of all, he’s going to treasure what’s right there on the screen in his hand: real, visual proof that somewhere on this planet tonight there’s a curly-haired, genius, Antarian cowboy who loves him.

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, cutting through the bullshit you tell yourself takes a few stiff drinks and a friend who'll tell it to you straight. Alex is lucky to have Kyle, who delivers both.  
> Just a couple of chapters to go, everyone!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyle Valenti goes to Florida, Michael Mara reveals his latest invention and Alex gets a talking to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY this took SO LONG! Between work, travel and real life hassles, I had to put the boys down for awhile. But we're back with a long new chapter.   
> As always, this has not been beta'd and all mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

May 16, 2024 - Michael

Keeping one eye on the speedometer, Michael navigates the shady streets of Grand Oaks, Florida. He has a choice: he can gun it and risk Max’s wrath for getting a speeding ticket in their new hometown or stick to the 25 mile-per-hour speed limit and deal with Isobel’s attitude when he’s late. He chooses option two and crawls along past Washington, Adams and Jefferson avenues until he pulls up to her Queen Anne style cottage on Madison and shuts off the engine.

The phone call he’d just had with Alex -- the one that made him late -- has left him rattled and frustrated and struggling to clamp down on his powers. Parked in Isobel’s driveway, he plays back the conversation again in his head.

_“Stop pressuring me, Michael!”_

_“I’m not—"_

_“Every time we talk it’s like you expect me to drop everything and get on a plane.”_

_“That’s not what I said—”_

_“I told you, I need to think things through, consider everything carefully.”_

_“I know but—”_

_“It’s only been three weeks.”_

_“Alex. Please will you listen to me for a second?”_

_“I’m listening.”_

_“I get it. You’re a planner. You don’t want to jump into something when you still have doubts.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“All I’m saying is you should consider coming here to check the place out. Like a research trip. Get the lay of the land, you know?”_

_“Oh, I’m sure I’d get **laid** all right. When we’re together the only ‘research’ that gets done seems to take place horizontally.”_

_“And that’s bad, why exactly?”_

_“Michael….”_

_“Kidding! OK? So sue me for being a smartass. That hasn’t changed and it probably won’t. I thought you kinda liked it.”_

_“ …”_

_“Still there?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Why are you so pissed at me? All I did was invite you to visit.”_

_“When you were here you said you’d wait for me to be ready.”_

_“I did. … **I will**. I can’t help missing you, though. I thought you felt the same.”_

_“I do. I just… I’m sorry. I’m in a bad mood.”_

_“Wanna talk about it?”_

_“Nah, not tonight. Go enjoy your evening with Max and Isobel.”_

_“Well, ‘enjoy’ is a strong word…”_

_“You’d better get going or you’ll be late.”_

_“Alex…don’t do this. Please.”_

_“Don’t do what?”_

_“Don’t push me away.”_

_“I’m not. Let’s just talk tomorrow, OK?”_

Michael’s attention is wrenched back to the present when he hears Isobel yelling at him from the front door. “In case you’re lost, dinner is being served _inside_ the house. I could draw you a map,” she snarks, impatiently.

Gritting his teeth, Michael gets out of the car and follows her inside to the dining room where Max is already seated. He makes a show of pulling her chair out for her and kisses her cheek, flashing the puppy dog expression he knows she can’t resist. Across the table, their brother shakes his head at the pair of them. They’ve been through a lot together in the five years since they fled Roswell. In many ways it’s brought them closer together. But that doesn’t mean they see eye to eye on everything.

Halfway through the meal, Max brings up the latest issue of contention. “I still can’t believe you offered Kyle Valenti a job here,” he grumbles with a glare in Michael’s direction.

“This again?” Michael asks wearily, dropping his fork to Isobel’s fine china with an alarming clatter.

Isobel jumps in to play peacemaker. “I know you trust him for some reason—"

“We _all_ trusted him back in Roswell, and as I recall he came through for us more than once. Especially you, Iz.”  

“You’re only interested in hiring him because you think Alex Manes will be more likely to follow,” Max says.

“Maybe that’s true. So what?”

“So, even though our old identities are dead we still have to be careful,” Max lectures. “We’re better off leaving the past behind.”

Michael’s about half a second from telling him to fuck off and storming out of the house, but he clenches his fists on the table and forces himself to calm down.  

“I know you think we should forget the past, Max.  But I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I can’t. I _won’t_. Not as long as I have any hope of a future with Alex. So how about you just get over it already.”    

Max and Isobel exchange a look that he can’t quite decipher, but thankfully the subject is dropped. Michael has noticed that their psychic bond is stronger than ever, even though they’ve both changed a lot since they left Roswell. He’s still not entirely used to seeing them in their new personas. Isobel, now ‘Bella’, no longer has the mole on her cheek. She wears her red-tinted hair in a sophisticated bob, and dresses in tailored suits and dresses appropriate for her position in the university’s administration.  His brother ‘Mac’ on the other hand, with his longer hair and short-trimmed beard, looks like central casting’s idea of a freelance magazine writer working on his first novel.  

Sometimes Michael’s still surprised when he sees himself in the mirror. The makeover Isobel put him through a year ago replaced his old style – or complete lack of it – with shorter, tamer curls, tortoiseshell glasses and a new work wardrobe made up of dark colored button downs, henleys and even the occasional sport coat worn over black jeans. He’s gotten used to it, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. The first thing he does when he gets home is change into the t-shirts, flannels and old, faded jeans that were his Roswell uniform.

“Listen,” he continues, trying to be persuasive, “Valenti comes tomorrow to check out the research labs, meet the team and see the town. I’m giving him the tour. I was hoping you’d do me a favor and meet up with us at some point. Make him feel welcome.”

Isobel reaches over and squeezes Michael’s hand in support. “OK, little brother. I guess we can do that. Can’t we, Max?” She shoots a meaningful look in Max’s direction until he gives in with a sigh and a nod.

It’s a small win but he’ll take it. After the awful conversation with Alex today he’ll take anything he can get.

***

May 17, 2024 -  Kyle

Kyle spends the ride from the airport comparing the scenery outside the window to what he’s used to back home.  While he’s always been soothed by the muted hues of the desert, he finds the brilliant greens and blues of the trees, sea and sky  invigorating. Gnarled oaks dripping Spanish moss arch across the streets of the town. The driver who’d been sent to pick him up points out local landmarks as they travel through the older part of the campus where stately stone and brick buildings are arranged on manicured lawns. Eventually they reach their destination at a low-slung building in the university’s research complex.  

Once inside, Kyle checks in at the security desk, reminding himself to ask for Michael Mara, not Michael Guerin. He’s issued a visitor pass and is just clipping it on when the man in question comes around a corner, approaching him with a slight smile on his face.  

Michael’s eyes light briefly on him, then Kyle catches him scanning the area past his shoulder; his expression shifting from hopeful to disappointed in a flash. But by the time they’re standing face to face, he’s schooled his features into a neutral mask. 

“Valenti,” Michael greets him smoothly, all business, “have a good flight?”

Kyle’s not prepared for this polished version of Guerin/Mara. The clothes, the glasses, the firm handshake -- it’s almost like he’s meeting a version of the guy from some parallel universe. It feels a little bit like he’s an actor on stage, but he presses, on, playing his part.  

“Um, yeah. Thanks.” “Dr. Newell set everything up for a tour of the medical facilities later, but he said you wanted to show me your labs first.”

The smirk this brings to Michael’s face is much more familiar and Kyle relaxes, feeling like he’s back on solid footing.

“Hell, yeah. What his team is working on is impressive…but just wait til you see my latest project,” he says with a wink as he leads Kyle through a maze of hallways. They finally reach an unassuming looking door where Michael enters a code on a keypad to deactivate the lock. As the door swooshes open, he turns to Kyle with a gleam in his eye, “Check out my latest inventions.”

The lab is small, but it’s a virtual beehive of activity. Kyle’s surprised to see about  half a dozen amputees inside, each with a different type of injury. Lab-coated scientists are busy working with each one, fitting them with artificial limbs, making adjustments and measuring their physiological responses as they go through the motions of standing, walking, grasping, lifting and so on.  Large screens display 3D images of the limbs in motion, while engineers consult with each other to make real-time modifications to the designs.

The prosthetics themselves are very lifelike, their joints closely mimicking the natural movements of human limbs. But it’s the ease and precision with which the test subjects seem to be able to manipulate them that Kyle finds most remarkable.

He turns to the man responsible for it all, observing Michael’s profile as he surveys the work with obvious pride.

“This … this is unbelievable.”

“The development of neuroprosthetic systems has been going on for decades, but others have relied on implanting electrodes in the brain to send and interpret signals from the prosthetics, so they’ve been very crude,” Michael explains. “Our breakthrough involves regenerating damaged nerves and receptors and a proprietary bio-interface.”

“You’re doing this for Alex, aren’t you?”

Michael’s expression is almost shy when he turns to briefly meet Kyle’s gaze, before looking back at the activity in the lab in silence.

“Does he know?”

“About this research? No. Not yet.”

“You were hoping he’d surprise you and show up here with me today, weren’t you?”

Michael frowns, muttering something under his breath.  Kyle can only pick out a few mumbled words, like ‘stubborn’ and ‘drama queen’ -- and maybe he’s not a brain surgeon, but it doesn’t take one to figure out there’s trouble in paradise. When he opens his mouth to ask, he’s cut off by Michael aggressively changing the subject.   

“Come meet my lab director, she’ll give you an overview of the bio interface we’re testing.  Some of the subjects have developed incredible control over the movement of the prosthetics.”

An hour later, Kyle’s head is buzzing with everything he’s seen and learned. More than that, he’s begrudgingly impressed as hell with his host. It’s mind-blowing that this is the same Michael Guerin who was a frequent overnight occupant of the Roswell drunk tank.

“Shit, we’re running late,” Michael says, suddenly. He gestures for Kyle to follow him to the door. “I was supposed to get you over to Dr. Newell’s lab 30 minutes ago. I’m sure he wants to take you through all the latest clinical trials he’s leading.”

Once they’re in the hallway, Kyle reaches out a hand to slow him down.

“Wait.”

Michael pauses, giving him a puzzled look.

“This. Here. This work you’re doing. Do you need an M.D.?  Is there any way I could be involved?”

Their eyes meet and he sees that Michael understands. This remarkable prosthetics project has a special meaning to Kyle, too. Who cares if the two of them have never been friends? When it comes to this work, he knows they’ll make a great team.

“Yeah, man,” Michael says. “There’s a position for you here if you want it.”

Kyle takes a deep breath and reaches out to shake on the deal. “Yes, thanks, Michael.” He clears his throat and continues with exaggerated formality. “I mean, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity, Mr. Mara, let me know if there’s any way I can repay you.”

The old devilish grin is back as Michael raises one expressive eyebrow and looks him up and down suggestively. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

Kyle snorts. “Yeah, right. Save the flirting for someone who doesn’t know you like I do. You’ve only got eyes for a certain former Airman.”

Michael tilts his head and looks away but doesn’t deny it. 

“Let’s go to my office. The HR manager will bring the paperwork to make it official.”

Michael’s office is a strange combination of bright and airy space and work surfaces completely cluttered with drawings, plans, tools and unidentifiable pieces of machinery.  They clear off a small round table in the corner so Kyle and the HR rep have room to go through the employment forms, benefits information, security clearances and so on.

Throughout the process he watches Guerin from the corner of his eye. As the minutes tick by, the buttoned-down demeanor begins to slip away, revealing a restless, unsettled man underneath. He paces, chewing on a hangnail and running his hand through his hair. When he’s not pacing, he’s compulsively checking his phone like a he’s waiting for a call from the governor with a reprieve from the electric chair.  

When the HR staffer has finally finished and left the office, Kyle tries to get to the bottom of it. 

“OK, spill – what’s going on with you and Alex?”

Michael parks himself on the corner of his desk and reluctantly meets his eyes but doesn’t say a word. No problem. Kyle’s medical training taught him how to deal with patients who are reluctant to open up. The key is to stay calm, project trustworthiness and let them speak in their own time. He’s just settling in for a long wait when Michael gives in to the need to fill the silence.

“Fucking hell, I don’t know,” he blurts out, standing to resume his pacing. “He picked a fight with me on the phone yesterday and now he’s ignoring my texts.”

“What did you fight about?” Kyle asks, using his most professional doctor voice.

“He accused me of putting pressure on him to move here.”

“And were you… pressuring him?”

“No! Sure, I want him to come here, but I wasn’t being an asshole about it. Him visiting to check the place out seems like a natural next step. When we were together in Roswell, things felt positive. But since then….”

“What?”

“It feels like he’s pulling back. Like he’s looking for excuses to not even try.”

Kyle had no idea that’s where things stood. But then again, he and Alex haven’t talked much since Guerin left. For all his bravery and strength, his friend has been known to isolate himself when he’s feeling conflicted. And if its possible to seriously overthink something, Alex Manes is the man for the job.

Apparently, Michael knows him well enough to understand this too. No wonder he’s agitated.

“Give him time. He’s worth waiting for, you know?”

Michael’s staring out the window, back turned toward him, but Kyle can see him  visibly deflate before he answers, “I know.”

Kyle thinks they’ve both had more than enough of an awkward heart-to-heart for one day. “Right. Then come on, boss, I’m starving. What’s good to eat around here?”

Michael shoots him an amused look over his shoulder. “Boss?”

He knew that would get a reaction.

“What do you want me to call you? Michael? Mr. Mara? Professor? I draw the line at ‘Supreme Alien Overlord’,” Kyle jokes, getting a rare genuine smile for his efforts. And what a smile. Christ, the guy is seriously good looking. No wonder Alex can’t resist him.

“I’m sure I can come up with something appropriate,” Michael says with a trademark wink. “C’mon, I’m buying.”

“Damned right you are,” agrees Kyle, already thinking about the call he’ll be making to Alex later.

***

May 17, 2024 - Alex

For the third time in as many hours, Alex has to stop what he’s doing and recheck his work. His mind has drifted again. What the hell is wrong with him?

Work has always been a refuge, a challenging puzzle he’s been known to lose himself in so completely that he skips eating and sleeping; only getting up from the computer when he absolutely has to use the bathroom. That’s part of the reason having a dog like Lucy has been so good for him. Maybe she’s not an official service dog, but she won’t let him sit for more than a couple hours at a time before she nudges him to take her outside, feed her or just scratch her behind the ears.

Lately he hasn’t needed her prompting. He’s been increasingly distracted, taking frequent breaks and finding excuses to procrastinate. It’s like his heart just isn’t in it anymore and he’s not sure why.

Well, that’s a fucking lie. He knows exactly why.

He can close his eyes and envision the reason for his distraction in perfect detail, from the soft curls to the golden-brown eyes, to the sensuous mouth he could get lost in for days.  Unfortunately, his imagination can also provide him with an accurate picture of how Michael must have looked last night after their phone call -- upset, confused and hurt – all because Alex had overreacted and taken it out on him.   

Why the hell did he act that way? Why can’t he get his fucking act together and make a decision about his future?  As he’s giving himself a thorough mental beatdown, his phone rings.

It’s Kyle, from Florida, where he had the job interview today. Alex isn’t exactly sure how he feels about that either, but he answers with a smile in his voice. 

“Hi. How’s your trip going?”

“Good. Really good,” Kyle answers, sounding cheerful and excited.

“That’s… uh, good, I guess.”

“In fact, I’ve got some news. I accepted the job offer!”

“Wow. That was fast,” says Alex, brow furrowing.

“I know. But this opportunity is too good to pass up.”

“Um, Kyle, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure you made that decision of your own free will?”

Kyle scoffs. “What, you think Guerin and the Evans twins mind-whammied me or something?”

“You saw the Evans’ too?”

“Yeah, well, Michael and I met their alter egos ‘Bella’ and ‘Mac’ for drinks. They said to tell you hi, by the way.”

Ah, Alex thinks. Drinks. Probably why Kyle sounds so sky-high.

“They swear no one played any Jedi mind tricks on me. And I’ve decided to believe them. Besides, they can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do anyway, right?”

While he half-listens to his friend ramble on and on about the merits of the town and the weather and the fresh seafood, the reality of the situation slowly starts to sink in.  Kyle is leaving Roswell.  Another person is leaving Alex in the rear-view mirror.  

 “….Alex? Alex?  Are you listening to me?”

The sound of his name startles him out of his thoughts. He pinches the bridge of his nose and starts paying attention. “I’m sorry, I spaced out for a second. What were you saying?”

Kyle’s long-suffering sigh is plainly audible over the phone’s speaker. Alex is sure he’s rolling his eyes.  

“I asked you why. Why are you still sitting there in Roswell alone?”

“Oh, c’mon, that’s not fair. I have a life here. I’ve got a home, my work…”

“Excuses. I’ve known you all your life. You’ve never had it easy, but you’ve always been a fighter – a survivor.  You truly are the bravest person I know, so explain to me why you’re acting like a pussy.”

“Hey! What the fuck--" Alex protests, angrily, but Kyle cuts him off.

“Deciding if you love your boyfriend enough to try to make things work isn’t rocket science. Although, come to think of it, your boyfriend practically is a rocket scientist so…” Kyle giggles a little. Alex mentally ups the estimated number of drinks he’s had and cuts him a little slack.  

“Are you trashed, Valenti?

“Maybe a little.”

“Is that why you’re taking his side?”

“This isn’t about taking sides, OK?  When I see the way you two look at each other…Jesus, if someone ever loved me like that, I’d grab them with both hands and never let go.  

He sounds so sincere. Alex swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Alex, right this minute your goddamned alien cowboy genius boyfriend is eating his heart out, waiting for the chance to give you everything you’ve ever wished for tied up with a freaking bow. And you’re letting him twist in the wind.”

“I know,” he breathes, feeling tears sting the backs of his eyes.

“Then what the fuck is stopping you?”

Alex realizes he doesn’t have a single good answer for that question. “You’re really pushing it, Kyle,” he warns, half-heartedly.

Kyle, huffs, ignoring Alex’s tone. “It’s called ‘tough love.’ You’re welcome, by the way. Now, are you going to call the poor bastard and put him out of his misery?”

“Nope, not tonight.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I have a much better idea.”

(to be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my mind, if there's one thing that defines Alex it's his stubbornness. Now that he's grown up and out from under both his father and the military, he's not going to let anyone tell him what to do -- Michael included. Cue Kyle Valenti, a few martinis and a dose of tough love.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me with this story. It's coming to an end and I will try my best not to let you down. Stay tuned!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Michael, do you think we can make this work? Can we really be happy?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

May 18, 2024 – Alex

 

The narrow bridge linking the mainland to the barrier island has seen better days. Alex can feel the car’s tires bumping rhythmically across every seam in the bridge deck.  According to Kyle, the long strip of sand dunes he’s heading toward holds a couple dozen private beachfront homes, one of which belongs to Michael.

Alex should feel exhausted. This journey started well before dawn and has taken the better part of the daylight hours. But now that he’s near his destination he’s filled with a nervous energy that makes his pulse quicken. He takes a calming breath and mentally prepares to see Michael again.

They’ve exchanged a few apologetic texts but haven’t spoken since their upsetting phone call two nights ago.  He knows it’s all his fault. But now he’s going to fix it. There are so many things Alex wants to say to Michael. Things that need to be said in person. Things he can’t wait any longer to say.  

He takes a right onto the only road on the island which leads him past a handful of weathered, mid-century era homes, before dead-ending in front of Michael’s two-story cottage at the western tip. Parking the car, he steps outside into the warm, sea-scented air, feeling the welcome stretch in muscles stiff from long hours in uncomfortable waiting areas and cramped airline seats.   

Despite the vintage Jeep in the driveway, there’s no response when he rings the doorbell, so he walks around the side of the house and steps onto the covered patio in back.  The view before him is nothing short of spectacular. A carpet of white sand slopes down steeply to meet a glittering expanse of aquamarine sea, the tips of each small wave sparkling in the sun like sequins. Looking down the beach to the east he can barely make out the nearest house. To the west is nothing but sand and water.  There’s not a soul in sight except for a lone swimmer far from the shore.

“Michael,” he breathes out loud, as if the man he’s loved half his life could hear him.  For a moment, actually being here feels so unreal he’s tempted to pinch himself.  But with his next step, a piercing cramp in his hamstring confirms it’s not a dream. Gasping, he staggers over to lean against the wall of the house and starts massaging the contracting muscle with both hands. 

Cursing under his breath, he clenches his jaw against the pain and mentally counts backward from one-hundred until the muscle starts to relax and he can breathe normally again.

“You need help?” asks a familiar voice out of nowhere.  Adrenaline pumping hard, he turns to come face to face with Michael’s brother.

“Max! Jesus, you startled me.”

“Sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to. I saw the rental car out front and was expecting it to be Valenti.”

Regaining his composure, Alex takes a limping step toward Max and shakes his hand. “No, just me. I rang the bell, but no one answered.”

Max nods toward the man swimming offshore with a fond smile. “Yeah, if the weather is good he’s usually in the water. Isobel says he’s half Antarian, half dolphin.”

Alex smiles and shades his eyes against the glare of the sun to focus on the man slicing through the waves with powerful strokes.

“He didn’t mention you were coming,” Max says.

“He doesn’t know.”

Max tilts his head and frowns. “A surprise, huh?  You know he hates surprises, right?”

Alex knows. “Yeah. I’m hoping he’ll make an exception for me.”

“He’d do anything for you. I hope you understand that,” Max says, gruffly. The implied ‘you’d better not hurt my brother’ message comes through loud and clear.

“I do. And I’d do the same for him.”

Both men stare out to where Michael has stopped swimming and is looking toward the house.

Finally, Max acknowledges his statement with a nod as he half-turns to leave. “It’s good to see you, Alex.” 

“You too, Max,” he answers, returning his attention to where Michael is now swimming back towards shore.  

 

***

Michael

The very first day he arrived in this sleepy Florida town, Michael fell in love with the sea. He’s mesmerized by the changeable nature of its colors and moods. The way it surrounds him and buoys him against gravity and the nearly alien world that’s hidden beneath its surface make him feel closer to the planet his people left a lifetime ago. When it comes to quieting his overactive mind, immersing himself in the warm Gulf waters is as effective as playing music.

He’s just finishing a long, relaxing swim when he senses that Max is close by. When he looks toward his house, he sees his brother standing in the shade of the patio alongside another man – is it Valenti? Wiping the saltwater from his eyes brings the man into focus.   

Alex.   

At the sight of him, a rush of excitement sings through his body, only to be quickly smothered by the gnawing anxiety he’s been plagued by since they last spoke on the phone. Alex is here, unannounced. Is that good or bad? He sees Max raise a hand in a wave, then walk away, leaving them to face each other alone.

When he gets to the shallows he stands, shaking his head to clear the water from his ears, carelessly slicking wet curls back out of his eyes with one hand. From this distance he can see Alex shifting his weight from leg to leg, but coming no closer. Looks like it’s up to Michael once again to bridge the distance between them.

Alex’s expression is hard to make out at first, but as Michael approaches he can see the way he licks his lips, leaving them slightly parted. He can practically feel the heat of those deep brown eyes sweeping up and down his body. When they come to rest locked with Michael’s, the desire in them stops him in his tracks.  

 _Patience_ , Michael tells himself. Over the years he’s taught himself to stop and think before he acts. Still, standing here within arms’ reach of the love of his life, waiting for him to make the next move, is testing his limits. He breaks the tense silence with a question, knowing that the answer could change his life.  

“Why are you here, Alex?” he asks, holding his breath. 

Drawn like a magnet, Alex enters Michael’s orbit and caresses his cheek while answering in a breathless rush, “Because you’re here and because I love you and because I don’t ever want us to be apart again. OK?” 

Exhaling, Michael reaches up to wrap his hand around Alex’s wrist, holding it in place. His heart is pounding so hard he can hear it in his ears.  “I love you, too,” he chokes out, voice rough with emotion. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you when I disappeared.” 

Alex pulls him into a tight embrace, whispering in his ear, “I know. But listen; in the weeks since you left I did a lot of thinking and I realized something important.”

“What?”

“There’s still part of me that’s afraid of being hurt again. But it’s nothing compared to how terrified I am of living the rest of my life without you.”

Then Alex’s mouth finds his, tongue seeking entrance and stealing the breath from his lungs as the kiss turns hungry and desperate. The way Alex’s body shudders makes goosebumps break out across Michael’s skin.

“You’re shaking. You OK?” he asks, starting to pull away.

“I’m OK. I just _want_ you. I want you so much,” Alex whispers.

Michael feels lightheaded as the blood all rushes below his belt. He can’t stop himself from reaching out to cup the erection straining against Alex’s tight jeans. 

“Inside,” Michael orders, taking Alex’s hand and leading him through the sliding glass door into the living room.    

That’s as far as they get. Alex grabs the waist of the black swim shorts Michael’s wearing and spins him around to face him, pressing their bodies together, hot erections lining up through thin layers of damp clothing.  “God, Michael. You look so hot. If you get tired of being a genius, you could make a fortune as a swimsuit model.” 

Michael gives him a mischievous smile and steps back, pushing the shorts down in one motion and kicking them away to stand naked in front of him. 

“Or a model with no swimsuit,” Alex gulps, as he admires the tanned and muscular body on display. “That works too.” 

Strong arms maneuver Michael backwards toward the sofa, where a gentle push lands him sprawled out on his back. Looking up, he watches Alex strip off his shirt, loosen his belt and shove his jeans and boxer briefs down just far enough to let free his stiff cock. Michael’s mouth is instantly flooded with saliva and he swallows hard. He wants to suck him off so bad, but instead Alex stretches out on top of him, trapping their cocks together between their bodies as their mouths meet in a searing kiss. 

Skin to skin, tongues tangling, hands twisted in each other’s hair, they thrust franticly, precum adding slickness to delicious friction as they writhe, climbing closer and closer to release. Pinned down by Alex’s weight and dizzy with lust, Michael can’t control the moans and whimpers that slip past his lips. The sex is frenzied and anything but graceful and it reminds him of their first time together in the tool shed; of how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other long enough to fully undress. Overcome by the memory and the physical sensations, his back arches sharply and he’s coming hard, head thrown back as he cries out Alex’s name, feeling the hot pulses of his lover’s release coat both their stomachs before Alex collapses on top of him, his head buried in the crook of Michael’s neck.

He’s not sure how much time passes as they lay there panting for breath, but once Michael’s brain comes back online, he turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Alex’s head.  

“Hey,” he says quietly.

Alex raises up and props himself on one elbow, looking down at him with a blissed-out expression. “Hey.”

“I’m not complaining or anything -- but aren’t you the same Alex Manes who gave me shit the other night and blamed _me_ for us always ending up horizontal?” Michael teases, raising one expressive eyebrow, as he runs his fingers through Alex’s tousled hair.

Alex’s blush and shy smile make him look like the teenager he first fell in love with. “No, that was another Alex Manes – the insecure one who acts like an idiot sometimes.”

“Idiot? Nah, that’s not my Alex Manes. My Alex is brilliant.”

“Oh, come on,” Alex scoffs, “brilliant?”

“He’s brilliant and a badass and so fucking _beautiful_ it almost hurts to look at him.”

The blush gets brighter and spreads to the tips of Alex’s ears as he smiles the special smile that’s reserved for Michael alone. “You left out one thing.” 

“Did I?”

“Yeah. He’s in love with you.”

Despite the sticky, sandy mess between them, they hold each other tighter, kissing like it’s the first time; like they know there will never be a last time. 

“Michael…”

“Hmmm?” Michael asks, having no intention of stopping the kisses for anything short of the end of the world. 

“Michael … Michael – hey!” Alex attempts again, pulling away and laughing when he can’t completely avoid the relentless attack from his boyfriend’s lips.

Letting up briefly, Michael opens his eyes and looks into Alex’s soft gaze. He can hardly believe this is happening; that he and Alex are together at last.

“What?” he whispers, seeing Alex’s playful expression soften into something wistful.

“Do you … do you think we can make this work?  Can we really be happy?” 

Michael answers with the solemnest of vows, “Alex… darlin’… they’ll have to come up with a brand new word to describe how happy we are.”

 

 

_(to be continued in the epilogue)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this has been a long, long journey and a labor of love. I miss these two so much, but there's nothing like hearing them having conversations in my mind to keep me sane during this endless hiatus. And picturing them on a fictional Florida beach makes them feel closer, since I'm writing this in S. FL.
> 
> The main story ends here.... to be capped with an epilogue that takes place a few months later. Stay tuned. 
> 
> And thanks you all for sticking with this story. Every comment has made me feel welcomed to this young fandom. Malex forever!


	16. Chapter 16 - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they agreed to try building a new life together, they made one rule: "no secrets"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you

\- Jim Croce, "Time in a Bottle"

~~

August 30, 2024 - Alex

Over the years Alex has compiled a mental list of things that suck about losing his lower leg in the war. The list is long and detailed and he keeps it to himself. He’s never been a complainer.  Growing up in Jesse Manes’ house taught him from an early age that complaining only made things worse.

At the top of the list is losing the ability to run.  Running had always been his go-to coping mechanism when things were bad.  Just feeling his feet pound against the ground, heart pounding in his chest, mile after mile after mile, could calm his emotions and quiet his mind after a confrontation with his father or a close call during battle.  

Losing his leg had taken that from him. Now, Michael has given it back. 

It’s incredible to feel this way again, to feel the sand give under his feet as he jogs near the water’s edge. To feel the salt-tinged wind cool the sweat on his body.  To feel the stretch and pull of his muscles working in harmony with an artificial limb almost as naturally as they did before.

In the three months since he was first fitted with the neuroprosthetic leg and advanced from standing to walking to running on it, Alex has felt more like his old self.  Perhaps it’s more accurate to say he feels like a new man – and not just physically.  Moving here to live with Michael seems to have loosened the death-grip he’d been holding over his emotions.  Starting to let go of that iron control has been like breathing fresh air after years in an underground bunker.   

It hasn’t all been smooth sailing.  They’re two men who’ve never shared a home with a partner before.  Michael’s housekeeping style – nearly as chaotic as his overactive brain – clashes constantly with the neat, organized military way of living ingrained in Alex since childhood.  Alex’s disciplined up-at-sunrise body clock conflicts with Michael’s night-owl nature.  And both of them tend to walk on eggshells around each other instead of talking about what bothers them.

Still, it’s working better than he could ever have hoped for.  Being with Michael, knowing that no matter what happens during any given day they will come home to each other at night, is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’d give up the other leg before he’d give this up.

He just wishes he could outrun this uneasy feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Maybe that’s too much to ask for after all the shit he’s been through in his life. Maybe he’ll always sleep with one eye open, wary of a threat that never comes. The thing is, Michael’s been acting on-edge all week and it’s messing with Alex’s mind.

As he slows his pace near the beach house he can see the man standing on the deck watching him, arms crossed over his chest.  He doesn’t like the expression on his boyfriend’s face as he strides across the sand to meet him.

“What the fuck, Alex?” Michael demands, shoving a bottle of water into his hands. The golden-brown eyes he loves so much are sparkling, but not in a good way.

“What? I’m cleared to run,” Alex says as he tilts his head back for a long drink.

“On a solid, flat surface. Not on shifting sand.”

“It was just a jog on the beach, no big deal.”

“You’ve been gone a long time. How far did you go?”

Alex grimaces at the question, but answers with the truth. “Four miles, maybe.”

“Jesus Christ! Do you even listen to my warnings about pushing yourself?  It’s based on experience. I’ve been working with this technology for years -- you’ve been using it for weeks.  System failures happen. Injuries happen. The fact that you’re a stubborn, willful motherfucker does not make you immune.” Michael’s practically yelling now, and Alex has to admit he’s got a point.

“You’re right.” 

The quiet admission instantly takes the wind out of Michael’s sails, and Alex sees him swallow the rest of the harsh words that were coming.

“I am a stubborn, willful motherfucker, but I’m _your_ stubborn, willful motherfucker. Still, that's no excuse for me pushing myself too far.”

He knows he deserves a lecture and Michael’s only trying to protect him, but he can’t help himself from using the wide-eyed, innocent look and coy smile his boyfriend is so susceptible to in hopes of cutting off further argument.  All’s fair in love and war, after all.

“You really think batting those eyelashes of yours is gonna get you out of this?” Michael asks, hands on hips, head tilting to the side and shaking back and forth.

“Maybe?” Alex grins, slyly. “I am sorry, but it’s just… it feels so good to be able to run again – to do all the things I’ve wanted to do for so long, but couldn’t. Thank you for this, Michael. I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough.”

Michael ducks his head, uncharacteristically shy for a moment. “Stop thanking me. I didn’t invent it just for you,” he grumbles, scuffing a bare foot in the sand.

“Sure, you didn’t,” Alex says, moving in to soften him up with gentle kisses.

Michael’s arms come around him, pulling his body close as the kiss deepens. Before long they’re both aroused and breathless.  

“You know one of my favorite things this new leg lets me do?” Alex purrs in his ear, ending the question with a gentle nip to his earlobe. 

“Hmmm, what?”

“It gives me enough strength and stability to push your slick body against the tile in the shower and fuck you from behind so hard you scream.”

Alex feels the powerful shudder that moves through his lover’s body as he hisses in a breath.  Taking him by the hand he pulls him toward the house and a waiting shower big enough for two.

***

Afterward, the breeze from the window over their bed cools their shower-damp bodies as they lay side by side. The run and the shower sex have worn Alex out, but when he sleepily rolls over to lay his head on Michael’s chest he feels the same tension in his body that’s been there for days now. It’s to the point where he can no longer ignore it. Propping himself on one elbow, he brushes a stray curl off Michael’s forehead.

“Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s _something_. Michael, please talk to me.”

Michael sits up and meets his eyes, letting out a tired sigh. “We said no secrets, right?

Alex clamps down hard against the jolt of panic those words send through him. He nods. “No secrets.”

Michael gets out of bed and pulls on a pair of jeans. “Just stay here a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Secrets? A dozen possibilities flash through Alex’s mind, none of them good. Feeling nervous and vulnerable, he puts on some shorts and sits on the bed with his back against the headboard, taking slow, measured breaths to stay calm.

When Michael reappears, he hesitantly sits down facing him, one hand held behind his back.  “Last week I was looking for batteries. I didn’t think you’d mind if I checked in your office… and I stumbled across this.”  With that, he hands Alex a small, square box bearing the name of the best jewelry store in Roswell. 

Alex feels his whole body flush hot and cold with surprise and relief. Ahh, _this_ secret. He wasn’t planning on it coming out this way, but…

“Did you open it?” Alex asks, still staring at the box in his hand.

“Have you met me? Of course I opened it,”  Michael answers, rolling his eyes to underscore the sarcasm.

When Alex opens the box, the thick gold band catches the light from the window, making it practically glow against the blue velvet lining of its package. “What do you think?” he asks, tentatively, searching Michael’s expression for clues.

“What do I think of the ring?  Or what do I think about the fact you’ve had it hidden in a drawer since you moved here months ago?” Michael shrugs and pauses. He looks away before he continues, “I guess I’ve been wondering if you’ve changed your mind about wanting me to have it.”

Oh, hell no. He’s hurt Michael again, without even knowing it. Reaching out to take his hands, he grips them tight. “God, no, I didn’t change my mind.  We’ve never talked about marriage, though. I don’t know if it’s something you even believe in. It’s not like either of us grew up with loving, married parents as an example.  And look at the disaster Isobel lived through with Noah. Things have been so great with us. I didn’t want to bring it up and rock the boat.”

Michael chews on his bottom lip and asks, “But you bought a ring, so there must be part of you that wants that, right?”

“Yeah – a dumb and naïve part, probably. Most marriages don’t last. I know that. But the idea of promising yourself to someone and really, truly meaning it – that’s something I want to believe in.”

Eyes wide and impossibly deep, Michael looks a little stunned, still worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. The air between them crackles with tension. Shit, leave it to Alex to fuck up a proposal he technically hasn’t even made yet.

“I love you, Michael. I’m yours. You’ve given me so much already --  more than I ever thought I’d have. I don’t need a ceremony and a piece of jewelry.  So, no pressure, OK?  If you want, we can just put this back where it was and forget about it and nothing will change.”

Michael pulls his hands away and starts to get up, but Alex makes a choked sound and grabs his wrist, keeping him from walking away. Gently disengaging his hand he tries to reassure him. “It’s OK. Just wait.”

Alex watches as he goes to the closet and rummages around on a shelf. He emerges carrying a small box of his own. Returning to his place on the bed, he puts the second box down and picks up the first.

“I don’t want to put this ring back in its hiding place, Alex. I want to put it on.” With a deep breath he opens the second box to reveal a gleaming band. Alex swallows hard around the lump in his throat, swiping at the moisture pooling at the corners of his eyes.  “I want you to wear this one, too.  I made it for you.  It’s platinum, lined with an alloy of the material from my ship – so that a piece of my original home will always rest against your skin. My new home. That is, if you’ll accept it and marry me.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s perfect,” Alex breathes, holding out his hand and watching in wonder as Michael slips the ring on his finger.  With trembling hands he takes the gold band and slides it on the ring finger of Michael’s left hand. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

The ring boxes go flying as Michael tackles him backward on the bed, pinning him to the mattress as he buries both hands in his hair. Michael’s kissing him like his life depends on it, like Alex is his only source of oxygen.  Lightheaded with joy and relief, Alex pours all his emotions into returning the kiss in kind.

Michael wants to marry him. They’re really going to get married.   

When they finally come up for air, they curl around each other, sharing a pillow and laughing like a couple teenagers. Michael’s bright smile softens and he looks at Alex with so much tenderness and devotion it takes his breath away.

“Are you happy?” Alex asks, hands caressing Michael’s much-loved face.

“Happy isn’t a big enough word,” Michael answers. He takes Alex’s hand and places a gentle kiss on top of the ring. “What can I do to make you as happy as I am? Just make a wish and it’s yours.”

“Nothing I could wish for could make me happier than spending the rest of my life next to you, knowing we belong to each other.”

“Always, Alex. Always.”

 

_The end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A toast to my favorite pair: Michael and Alex. May they one day be as happy in canon as they are in this story that took over my imagination!
> 
> Much love to all of you who have been kind with kudos and comments.  
> Who knows, I might revisit this verse in the future to see how they're doing - especially if they survive Isobel planning their wedding.
> 
> All the best to you all!


End file.
